


For A Dream's Sake

by EllenOfOz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2018, Djinni & Genies, Domestic Fluff, Episode: s13e16 Scoobynatural, Hurt Castiel, M/M, Sam Winchester and Dogs, Season/Series 13, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-08-20 01:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16545992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenOfOz/pseuds/EllenOfOz
Summary: Just four ingredients is all they need to reopen the rift. Archangel grace, the Seal of Solomon, blood of a most holy man, and a fruit from the tree of life.Castiel returns from Syria with the fruit, saying that he killed some djinn and bargained with the rest. But just what bargain did Cas make with the djinni queen? What did he experience at her hands?Heaven's great leader of armies prides himself on his self-control, his steadfast courage under pressure. But when the djinni's dream is everything he's ever hoped for...“Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changedFor a dream's sake.”-Christina Rossetti





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first DCBB. As is traditional, I have a bunch of people to thank, so please bear with me.
> 
> Cast your mind back to March of this year, when 13.16 Scoobynatural aired. My good friend [WaywardAF67](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardAF67/pseuds/WaywardAF67) said something along the lines of, “What really happened with the djinn in Syria? What if they put Cas into a dream?” Thanks for allowing me to take your idea and turn it into this story, and all your support along the way <3 (you should all def go [read her DCBB!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16183661))
> 
> The artwork in these chapters is by the amazing [Usarechan](https://usarechan.tumblr.com/), who was a pleasure to work with, even when the deadline pressures were looming. I am in love with the images - thanks so much for choosing my fic to draw for! Usarechan’s masterposts are [here](https://usarechan.tumblr.com/post/180644738674/first-entry-for-ellenofozs-for-a-dreams-sake-he), and [here](https://usarechan.tumblr.com/post/180644875984/second-entry-for-ellenofozs-for-a-dreams-sake). Please make sure to leave some love for beautiful art! 
> 
> Big thanks go to my gang of Alphas/Betas (occasionally Omegas), for making this story better in every way. Special thanks to [TrenchcoatBaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrenchcoatBaby) for your editing skillz, and kisses for [WaywardJenn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardJenn) and [CBFirestarter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CBFirestarter). Thanks and cuddles to [MalMuses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalMuses) and [Athaclena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athaclena) for being extra awesome. 
> 
> I have to give a shout out to the meta community on Tumblr for helping me get into Cas’ season 13 headspace, especially [tinkdw](http://tinkdw.tumblr.com) and [amwritingmeta](http://amwritingmeta.tumblr.com). Thank you for your insights :)
> 
> And lastly, thanks to the mods of this Bang, Muse and Jojo. I’ve enjoyed being a part of it!
> 
> And now, on with the show.

The djinni lets out a blood-curdling shriek and a burst of blue light as Castiel's angel blade punches through her torso. The lifeless body falls to the ground as the angel yanks the blade out again in a spray of blood, then spins around, stabbing into another djinni with glowing eyes behind him. 

Three more djinn stand behind him, crouched and waiting, a blue glow around each of their forearms. 

Castiel raises his hands, recognising his bad odds. He lets his blade dissolve into the aether as he steps backwards over the fallen corpse behind him. 

“I didn't come here to fight,” he growls out, watching more djinni appear from behind a ruined wall to his left. 

This damaged country doesn't need any more fighting. Since he crossed the border from Jordan into Syria, he's seen nothing but destruction. Broken shells of buildings stabbing into the sky like grave markers. Farms lying grey under spring skies, untended and abandoned. 

He's been helping people as best he can when he finds them huddled in ruins or tent camps, healing a few but trying to keep a low profile. The mission to retrieve the fruit from the tree of life is always on his mind—who knows what horrors are befalling Mary and Jack in that other world? Besides, a worse fate waits for these people if he fails. 

He had crept into this ruined castle on the outskirts of Damascus, destroyed long before the current crisis, hoping to find the tree and be out again before dawn. He'd felt ancient power thrumming through the ground as he'd crept into the crumbling building. He hadn't counted on a pack of djinn ambushing him before he even reached the tree, although he’s aware of its presence in the next room. 

Castiel eyes the djinn surrounding him, standing tall with his hands still raised in surrender. He counts fifteen in just this room—far too many to fight his way out. “I'm just here to retrieve a fruit from the tree. Let me take one, and I'll leave.”

One large male steps forward, his tattoos swirling on his skin as he considers Castiel. His eyes drop to the corpses of his packmates on the flagstone floor, then back up with distaste. “The tree is ours, seraph,” he snarls, “and you are not welcome here.”

This must be their nest, Castiel realizes. The war-torn city is the perfect place for djinn to hunt, with its supply of scared, desperate humans. 

At some signal, the djinn begin to advance. Cas throws his hands out in what he hopes is a soothing gesture. “Please, let me speak. Can I offer you something in exchange for the fruit?”

“There's nothing you can give us, except your blood.” The djinni raises his arm, blue light curling around it as he reaches for Cas. 

Castiel tenses, manifesting his blade again and sending a silent apology to Jack. He wishes he could get word to Dean, but he won't go down without a fight.

Just as the djinni is about to lunge for Cas, a voice rings out across the ruined room. “Stop! Stop, Ranim.”

All eyes turn to see a beautiful woman walk through a broken archway—from the room Castiel is sure contains the tree of life. She's slim and lithe, her long, brown hair cascading over her shoulders. Swirling black tattoos cover her face and neck and exposed forearms. Her eyes are locked on Cas, cold and calculating. 

“Stand back, all of you. It's my turn.” Her voice is soft but it carries a note of command. This must be their queen, then. 

As she walks forward, Castiel takes an involuntary step back. In her long, flowing red dress she might look unthreatening, but Cas has a feeling she's at least as deadly, if not deadlier than the rest of her pack. He holds his blade ready. 

“You want fruit from the tree? Maybe we can come to an arrangement.” She drifts further towards him, looking pointedly at the angel blade. “Would you mind putting that away? Let's have a civilised discussion, mm?”

Castiel tucks the blade away and crosses his arms, frowning as he stands tall. “What kind of an arrangement?” Perhaps he can stall for time until he can get to the tree and away. Not for the first time today, he longs for his wings and full grace to smite these creatures. 

The djinn queen approaches and walks around him in a circle, watching him. When she gets back around to his front, she looks up into his face from a few inches away. Her eyes have an odd blue glow to them, but Cas knows her magic won't work well on him. “What is your name, seraph?”

Castiel considers. Giving his name to this creature is dangerous, but he needs to play along for now. “Castiel.”

“Castiel, it is known that blood that has held seraphim is sweet beyond measure. I will allow you to take fruit from our tree, if you'll give me a taste.” She reaches a hand up to run her fingers lightly down his cheek. 

Castiel tries hard not to recoil at the touch, instead narrowing his eyes at her. Her request makes no sense. “You want my blood? Why not just kill me and take it?”

The djinni laughs, throwing her head back. “It's your grace that sweetens your blood, angel. You need to be alive. Give me twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours to taste Heaven, then you may leave with fruit.”

Castiel considers the deal. If he doesn't take it, he'll have to fight all of them. He might take a few down, but eventually they'll overcome him. But if he goes along with the deal and is overcome by the djinn venom, he'll be helpless. 

“How do I know you'll keep your end of such a bargain if I’m unconscious?”

“My venom won't affect you the same way it would a human. You might fall into a fantasy, I'm not really sure, but you'll likely be aware of me. If you do break out of the dream or try to stop me before twenty-four hours have passed, the deal is off. No fruit.”

Castiel sighs, impatient. The idea of this djinni sinking her fangs into him is repulsive, but he's running out of options. He recalls a time standing in the bunker, when he and Dean exchanged what had almost been a vow: “Whatever it takes.” He'll have to go along with the deal. “Very well,” he says. 

The djinn queen smiles, baring her sharp teeth. “Come. Let's get more comfortable.” She holds out a hand. As Cas watches, a blue glow swirls around her hand and her spiral tattoos appear to move, unwinding around her arm. 

He takes a deep breath, places his hand in hers, and allows her to lead him into the next room, under the crumbling arch. The other djinni melt away into the shadows. “You didn't tell me your name,” he murmurs, catching a glimpse of a faintly glowing tree in the centre of this new chamber. The djinni turns to look at him through lowered lashes. “I am Sacha.” She raises his hand to her dark, soft lips. “Make a wish,” she whispers against his skin. 

Castiel's sight dims at the edges, and the world goes dark. 

***

Castiel walks down the concrete stairs to the top door of the bunker, digging in his coat pocket for his keys. As he puts the key to the lock he stops, disoriented for a moment. He looks around himself. He's just arrived at the bunker, hasn't he? He turns to look behind him and sees his truck parked in the lane. 

He's just been to Syria. But he doesn't have the fruit. He hadn't even managed to find the tree. Oh, this is going to be painful. Things had been strained when he'd left for Syria after he'd stripped the spell from Donatello, destroying his mind in the process. He had argued with the brothers, and he'd hated what he'd done to the prophet. Even more, he'd hated the way Dean had looked at him, like a pet that had just gone rabid…even though he'd done all of it to protect him and their whole world. But at the time it had been the most expedient way to get the spell, and now it's all for nothing because he’s failed. 

He nearly turns around right there and heads back out rather than see the disappointment in Dean's face again, but where would he go? He can't be here and not at least check in on their progress on finding the other ingredients. 

He unlocks the door and it opens with a creak and a groan. He breathes the familiar, slightly musty air of home. 

“Cas? That you?”

Cas smiles, walking forward to look over the banister at his friend. Dean is standing in the doorway of the passage to the kitchen, looking up towards him. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean grins back. “There he is! Come on, we're just sitting down to pizza.” He waits until Cas clomps down the stairs before pulling him into a warm hug. 

Castiel puts his arms around Dean and smiles, pleased to see him again. While he was away, he’d missed Dean so much his chest ached, especially when he remembered how they'd parted. He pulls back, his hand still on Dean’s shoulder. Dean looks happier than Cas has seen him in a long while, and it warms his heart. Unfortunately, he bears bad news.

“Dean, I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to find the tree of life. I failed.” He looks down, not willing to see Dean's smile fade, but instead, a hand rests on top of his own and squeezes. 

“It's okay, man, we don't need it anyway. Come see.”

Cas meets Dean's eyes again and is caught in the gentle, open look he sees there. Not so long ago, after the Empty had spat him out and he'd found his way back to Sam and Dean, Cas had been full of gratitude and joy that they'd loved him enough to do whatever it was they'd done to get him back. They hadn't, as it turned out, done anything—it had all been Jack's doing. When Dean had called him “pal” it was like a knife to the gut, and the knife had twisted when Dean told him he was back because they needed him back. They might say he's part of the family, but he's more a part of the team, that's all. Not even a very useful part. His eyes drop and he pulls his hand back from Dean's shoulder, suddenly self-conscious. 

Dean moves towards the kitchen and Cas follows, now curious about the sound of laughter he can hear. 

“Castiel!” Jack barrels into him as they walk through the door, hugging him tight and laughing. 

“Jack?” Castiel pulls back, then blinks at the others sitting around the table. “Mary? Bobby? How did you…”

Dean claps Cas on the shoulder with a laugh. “Crazy, huh? Turns out these guys had an epic battle with Michael, Jack busted up his ass and they escaped back here!”

“And…Michael?”

Mary smiles as she waves him over. “Come on, Castiel, sit down. Don't worry about that now, you just got back. You must be exhausted.”

“That's right, I did. I…am.” There's something not quite right about that statement. He crosses the kitchen and sits at the bench next to Mary. 

Mary hugs him with one arm around his shoulders. “It's good to see you again.” She turns to Bobby and says, “Bobby, you know Castiel?”

The grizzled alternate-world Bobby Singer nods to Cas, then replies to Mary, “We met the first time your portal got opened.” He turns back to Castiel, saying, “We were with Mary and Jack when they made the portal to escape. Jack's gonna send us back again soon so we can find the rest of our people.”

As Cas nods thoughtfully, Dean sits down on the bench next to Cas and pulls the nearest pizza box towards himself, opening it. 

Dean and Sam must be overjoyed to have their old friend back, even if he is a little more battle-hardened than his doppelgänger. Cas turns back to Mary. “And Michael? He's still alive?”

“We're not sure. Jack blasted him away, but we never saw a corpse, or burnt wings, so…” She shrugs. “He could still come through, I guess. But he'll need to regroup, and so do we.”

Sam speaks up, smiling, “And now you're back, it's a proper family reunion.”

Echoes of agreement sound around the table, and Dean nudges Cas in the side with his elbow. Cas smiles, a warm pleasure rushing over him. This is why the bunker kitchen is his happy place. He’s never in his life felt more at home than he does here. 

“Thank you. I'm glad to be back.”

Contented eating sounds take over for a short while, and Dean gets up to fetch more beer from the fridge, passing one to Cas as he returns. 

Cas clinks the neck of his bottle with Dean's and he takes a sip, then puts the bottle down again. “Bobby, you said, ‘Jack's gonna send us back.’ Someone else came with you?”

Before Bobby can reply, a voice comes from the corridor. “Hello? Sorry I'm late!”

Castiel looks up as a dark-haired woman wearing a flowing red dress walks purposefully into the room, smiling. She looks familiar, but Castiel can't place her. Sam's face lights up like the sunrise as he hears her come in, and she moves to stand behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. 

Dean says, smiling, “Cas, this is Sacha. She came through from the other world as well. Sacha, Castiel.”

Sacha looks at him through her lashes, and the world grinds to a halt. _It’s her._ Reality flickers and he sees strobing flashes of her tattooed face, the curling marks down her arm, her eyes glowing bright blue. He opens his mouth to shout but can’t make a sound. Her face darkens and she snarls at him, “Don't say anything.”

The world flickers again and Castiel is back in the bunker, squinting at a happily smiling Sacha.

“Um,” he tries. His voice doesn't seem to be working properly. “Nice to…meet you.”

He glances at Dean to see him giving him a strange look. The hunter shakes his head and goes back to munching his pizza. “Sacha ’n’ Bobby gonna crash here for a little while, until we've got a better idea of how to take down the archangel.”

“Right.” Cas’ heart is beating hard, every nerve electrified. This isn't real. None of it. But it’s so realistic! He looks around the kitchen, taking in the perfect placement of each item, every detail exactly as he remembers. 

He turns to Dean, hearing him say, “Cas?” It sounds muffled, like he’s underwater, until he lays eyes on Dean. He snaps into focus, every part of him sharp and real—every freckle on his currently concerned-looking face. “You okay?”

The rest of the room is now soft around the edges of his vision, and he realizes he can no longer feel the souls around him. The dream had been so realistic, but now he's aware of it, it's starting to disintegrate. 

He shakes his head, standing up abruptly. “No, I’m not. Will you excuse me? I’ve had a long day, I need rest.” 

He climbs off the bench and flees the warmth of the kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel paces across the room designated as his. He hardly ever spends time in here, but the details of the room are still sharp, even in the dream—bare walls, neatly made bed. He turns and crosses the room again. If he stays in here, avoiding everyone, he should be able to get through this twenty-four hours without any awkwardness. He doesn't know how the djinni is in his dream with him, but he doesn't particularly want her seeing the inside of his head. 

If this fantasy really is straight out of his own subconscious, he dreads to think what might happen if he interacts with anyone. Especially Dean. The kinds of thoughts he has been carefully repressing about the elder Winchester for nearly ten years now are not to be shared with a djinni. Even if the wish might come true here...

No, he would never press Dean for anything more than the friendship they had, even in a dream. In a panicked moment months ago, Cas had confessed his love as he lay dying, only to be met with silence. His heart aches as he remembers that night, the crushing feeling of rejection. Dean has never been interested in him that way, telling him over and over he’s a brother, a friend. All Cas can do is get away from the bunker, rather than have to face the pain and longing of seeing Dean every day, even though this place is more of a home to him than anywhere else on Earth. 

That doesn’t make his desires any less, though, and now here he is, wishing Dean would walk in here, and… 

There’s a soft knock at the door. Cas turns to stare at it, incredulously. He keeps quiet, praying that whoever it is will go away and leave him be. 

“Cas? You okay?” Dean's voice sounds worried. 

“I’m fine,” Cas replies flatly. _Please don’t come in, please don’t come_ …

The door opens, and Dean sticks his head through it. “You said you weren’t feeling well, but you don’t look like you’re resting.”

“No, I… I was just thinking of going to get a book from the library.” He moves forward to try to get past Dean, but Dean puts a hand on his chest, stopping him from leaving. 

“Hold on, Cas, I wanted to tell you something.”

Castiel swallows, the touch of Dean's hand suddenly making him warm all over. “Of course.” He retreats, and Dean comes into the room, closing the door behind him and leaning back against it.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, after… after Syria. I mean, I know you’ve probably been through some shit, and, y’know, after all that crap with Donatello and the spell, I just wanted to make sure we’re cool.” Dean’s face is flushed by the time he finishes, but he looks hopefully at Cas, and Cas’ heart melts at the sight. 

“I’m fine, Dean. And yes, we’re…cool. It’s all turned out all right, hasn’t it?” 

Except it hasn’t. _It's not real_ , he reminds himself.

Dean smiles earnestly. “It has. And, well, now that things are quieter, at least until the next case turns up, I just want you to know that you can stay here. This is your home too. If you want.” 

Castiel closes his eyes. He's been waiting so long to hear those words. He steps backwards into the middle of the room, away from Dean before he does something he might regret, like leap forward to kiss him. “Thank you, Dean. But I won't stay long. You need to reconnect with your family.”

Dean gives an annoyed huff and pushes off the door, taking a step forward towards Cas. “How many times…? That includes you. Everything's better when you're here. I'm better.” 

Castiel looks up, skeptical. The real Dean would never be so open. 

Dean continues, softer. “When you were…gone, I was…I was a mess. I needed you back, Cas. We all did, but me most of all.”

Dean lifts his hand, but rather than putting on Castiel's shoulder as he expects, he places it gently on his cheek, lifting Castiel’s face. 

“Please, stay?”

Cas closes his eyes again and leans into the touch, fire racing over his skin. When he opens his eyes again, Dean's face is right there, an inch away. He freezes in place, hardly daring to draw breath, caught in the full force of warm green eyes.

Dean leans forward, and their lips touch. 

It’s everything, and not enough. Dean pulls back again, a question in his eyes, and Cas answers by reaching up and grabbing the back of Dean's neck, pulling him back in and pressing their lips together again. 

Castiel doesn't have a lot of experience with kissing, but the few times he had been kissed he'd been surprised at how pleasant it was. Kissing Dean is on a whole new level. His face scratches against stubble, but Dean’s lips are soft and warm, and the taste of whiskey on his tongue sends electricity fizzing down Cas’ spine. Dean kisses him as though he might leave at any moment, when all Cas wants to do is stay here, forever. 

Dean grabs him, pulling their bodies together, and Cas gives an involuntary gasp. Dean pushes at the shoulders of his trench coat, and between kisses he lets Dean help him shrug off the overcoat and his suit jacket. 

Cas turns for a moment to throw them over the bed, and when he turns back, Dean gives him a predatory grin. “You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this,” he growls, and he grabs Castiel's tie and pulls him in slowly for a searing kiss. 

Cas lets out a muffled groan and presses himself against Dean again, surprised by the feeling of friction against his crotch. Dean palms him through his trousers and Cas gasps again. 

Dean murmurs, “Let me…” He kneels down on the hard floor and starts unbuckling Cas’ belt. 

Cas watches him, trying to catch his breath. His heart is pounding, his hands clammy. This… this is more than he's ever dreamed… 

He freezes. No. The dream. 

He steps back from Dean before he can finish unzipping Cas’ trousers. He can’t do this. He just…he can’t.

He closes his eyes again so he doesn't have to look at Dean's confused expression as he gets up from kneeling. “I'm sorry. This isn't real.” 

He steps around Dean and leaves the room, re-buckling his belt and replacing his jackets with a rush of grace, not stopping for Dean's call of, “Cas? Wait!” He sweeps up the corridor and into the library, slumping in one of the armchairs behind a bookshelf, head in his hands. 

He’s screwed, plain and simple. How is he going to survive twenty-odd more hours of this hell? Of all the torture Cas has endured over the long years of his life on Earth and in Heaven, having his repressed desires dragged out and paraded around is among the worst. He wishes desperately that he could have remained unaware of the dream. Perhaps right now he could be enjoying something that is deeply forbidden, but that he's craved for such a long time. 

He looks up as he hears voices in the corridor. Sam speaks quietly, but Cas hears him clearly. 

“Did he leave?”

Dean answers, “I dunno, he came this way after saying something about things not being real. You think something might have happened?”

“He's just spent weeks in a war zone, Dean. Anything could have happened. PTSD can be a bitch, you know that.”

He hears Dean sigh. “All right, I'll go check the garage, see if he left. Can you check in here?”

“Sure. Dean? He'll be okay.”

Cas has to smile at that. Even the Sam of his dreams is still looking after his brother. Cas isn't sure if he wants to talk to him, though. He stays behind the bookshelf. 

As he listens for Sam's approach, Cas wonders how much control he actually has over the dream. Can he actually leave the bunker? If he angers the djinni, though, she might kill him rather than honor the deal. He'll have to stay here, without going near Dean if possible. 

He hears footsteps in the corridor, but when Sacha walks through the door instead of Sam, he jumps to his feet. “Sacha. Enjoying yourself?” he snaps. 

She smiles coldly. “I am, in fact. He's quite a delicious specimen, isn't he? With his long hair and those shoulders…mmm.”

Castiel blinks. She's talking about Sam? What is it with Sam and monsters? 

“You leave Sam alone. And I don't intend to go any further with these…” he waves a hand in the air, “fantasies, especially not while you're watching.”

“Oh, you've been getting it on with the other one? Goodness, how delightful.”

“No! No, I wouldn't do that.”

Sacha laughs. “Relax, Castiel! It seems since you're aware of me, I can only see the parts of your fantasy that this dream persona can see.” She gestures to herself, and continues, “You can go ahead, have your hunter. Enjoy it.”

“No, I wouldn't do that. It's wrong on so many levels.” Castiel shakes his head. He can't take advantage of Dean not being himself, even if it is all in his head. Can he? 

“Suit yourself, seraph. I'll just go back to enjoying myself. Have you seen how big his hands are?” She holds up a hand and giggles at Castiel's dark glare, then disappears back into the corridor. 

Cas slumps back down in the armchair. How has he even ended up in this situation? The mission looms in his mind. He has to get through this, to get the fruit and out of Damascus again. His promise to Kelly to protect Jack weighs heavily on him—they need to get that portal open as soon as possible. He dreads the thought of heading back through the war zone, and the flight home with its confined spaces and crippling boredom. 

A rustling of wings startles him, and he looks up to see Jack standing before him. His chest constricts as he remembers the last time he'd seen the real Jack, when he'd been traumatised by killing the guard and had fled the bunker, believing he would hurt them. 

“Castiel, there you are! Dean's looking for you.”

Castiel relaxes, sighing. “I know. I…” What could he say that doesn't sound like he's hiding? “I came out here to find something to read.”

“Are you okay? Dean's worried. He was anxious while you were away, and he was very happy when you returned, but now he's worried again. Did you fight?”

“Something like that.” Castiel runs a hand down his face, internally cursing Jack for being so perceptive. He's not going to be able to hide here until tomorrow night if Dean's worrying about him. He looks up at Jack's concerned expression. “I'm sorry, I've had a very long day. I flew all the way back from the Middle East and drove from the airport in Wichita and I'm weary.”

“Wait, the airport? You flew in a plane? Sam said you'd be back quickly because angels can just…” He flicks his fingers in a way that Cas assumes is supposed to indicate flying. 

Cas smiles sadly. He knows he'll have to have this conversation with the real Jack sooner or later, although there's a chance Sam or Dean already have. “No, Jack. Once the gates of Heaven were closed a few years ago, the angels’ wings burned. We're grounded.” For a long time, he'd felt the emptiness where his ethereal wings used to be almost like phantom limbs, but that has faded now. 

“But I can see them!” Jack insists, waving his hand towards Cas’ shoulders. 

“No, they're…” Cas stops. He slowly flexes his wings for the first time in five years, and feels them start to manifest. He stands up suddenly, stretching them out to either side, relishing the crackling grace running along their span. “I… I don't believe it…”

Jack is grinning like it's Christmas. 

Cas narrows his eyes at the nephilim. “Is this your doing?”

Jack looks shocked. “No! I don't… I wouldn't know where to start. They've been there the whole time.” He watches Cas stretch his wings out, trying to avoid the shelves in the room, then continues, more soberly. “Please go and talk to Dean. He looked really upset.”

“I will. Thank you, Jack.” Castiel smiles fondly at the nephilim, then flexes his wings again and flies into the kitchen. It's mercifully empty. His test flight worked.

What should he do? He's so pleased to have his wings back that he feels like stretching them, flying around the world to his favourite places to get away from this confusion. But there is really nowhere he'd rather spend twenty-four hours than here. He needs to talk to Dean, to apologise and assure him that he’s fine. But if Dean tries to…to touch him again, will he be able to walk away a second time?

A traitorous thought surfaces—he could just let himself have this one taste of what is forbidden. Sacha said that she can’t see anything behind a closed door, and it's not like anyone else is going to know anything happened. The angels who could pull it from his mind, Zachariah, Naomi, are long dead. 

No, he can't do that to Dean, even in his own mind. He has to remain strong. He’ll thank himself later, when he's back with the real Dean. If he ever makes it out of this mess, that is. He steels himself, and flies to Dean’s room.

Dean is not asleep, as Cas had secretly hoped he’d be, so he could go back to hiding. Instead, he is lying back on top of his covers, his jeans and briefs around his knees, hand gripping his hard cock and stroking up and down. He lets out the most sinful noise Castiel thinks he has ever heard—a kind of rough, breathy moan that instantly sends a rush of heat to his own groin. 

Cas can’t hold in a strangled noise, and Dean must somehow hear it because he opens his eyes, takes one look at Cas standing there and lets out what could only be described as a shriek. He grabs one of his pillows to stuff over his lap, then stares at Cas for a moment, panting heavily. 

“Jesus fuck, Cas, did you forget how to knock on the door?!” 

The sight of Dean pleasuring himself seems to have short-circuited Castiel’s brain. He's aware Dean continues to talk, but he's too busy drinking in the sight of the man on the bed before him, his strong arms, his furiously blushing cheeks, his dishevelled hair, to listen to a word.

“I mean, fuck, you just ran out and left me all…” Dean gestures to the pillow still covering his crotch. “I’m sorry, Cas. I didn't mean to—”

Why is he still talking? “Dean?” 

“Yeah?”

“Stop,” he growls, and crawls forwards onto the bed until he's close enough to catch Dean’s mouth in a bruising kiss. Dean yelps with surprise, then reaches up to grab a handful of Cas’ hair, holding him down.

Cas grinds his hips down into Dean’s solid body beneath him. Clothes. They're wearing too many of them. He whisks them to the aether with a thought and suddenly, he's touching Dean skin-to-skin. Cas shifts his body and gasps when his now freed and heavy erection drags over the skin of Dean’s hip. When Dean bucks upwards, Cas’ vision nearly whites out. 

They move together, soft moans becoming more frantic as Cas feels pressure building in his core. Cas drops his face to Dean’s neck, tasting the salty skin just below the curve of his jaw, and Dean suddenly shoots come between them with a broken cry. Cas thinks he might be about to explode, all his nerve endings tingling, but then Dean pushes him up off his chest, takes Cas firmly in hand and starts stroking him until sparks explode behind his eyelids. He's been amped up for this for so long that it's all over almost too quickly. The bulb blows in the lamp beside the bed, plunging them into darkness, and he breathes Dean's name as his own seed shoots out to mix with Dean’s on his stomach. When his mind stops buzzing, he flops down to one side of Dean, exhausted. 

He buries his face in Dean’s neck, breathing his whiskey and gunpowder scent. He’s fairly sure he'll freak out about this later, but for now he lets himself enjoy this moment. In the aftermath, he's all glowing warmth, floating. 

Dean gasps.

Cas opens one eye, and is shocked to see a cool blue glow lighting up the room. He jerks backwards off Dean, scrambling off the bed. The glow is coming from him—from behind him, in fact. His wings have manifested, with faint glory. He quickly looks back to Dean. “You can see them?” 

Dean’s astonished face is illuminated in the glow. He nods, still breathing heavily from their exertion. “Sorry, it’s just that we usually only see shadows…”

Castiel shuffles self-consciously, and the light winks out. His wings have returned to the aether, and the room is in darkness once again. “I—I’m sorry. I don’t want to bring them back in case I hurt you. I’m not sure I can control how bright they are. At full glory, they're blinding to humans.” 

Dean takes a deep breath into the dark room. “That's okay. Come back.”

Castiel shuffles back onto Dean’s bed, cleaning up the mess on their bodies with a swirl of grace. He lies down next to Dean, suddenly awkward. 

Dean nudges closer, then picks up Cas’ arm and positions it around his own shoulder, snuggling into Cas’ side. Cas marvels at how perfect and unreal this is, and then he smiles ruefully as he remembers that it actually isn’t real at all. He doesn’t mind, though. He’ll have this memory to look back on.

“Your wings are beautiful,” Dean whispers into the darkness.

Castiel can feel his cheeks heating. “Thank you.”

Dean’s breathing slows and Castiel thinks he's fallen asleep, when he hears a quiet, “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Please don’t leave.”

Castiel smiles to himself, ignoring the sharp clench in his chest, and places a soft kiss on Dean’s forehead. 


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel stirs from his doze just as Dean shifts, snuggling into his side with a sigh. Cas looks down at Dean's peaceful face and smiles, still not quite believing that he’s here, that this has happened. 

He's watched over Dean in his sleep whenever he can since he first raised him from Hell, and has often felt an unangelic wish to hold him, especially when Dean is unsettled by nightmares. But gazing at him now, Cas realizes that this has always been more than just a wish. As an angel, he knows he really shouldn’t be having these urges at all, but he can’t deny that the longer he’s spent on Earth, the stronger the urges have become. He’s battled with himself over the years to repress them, but last night had been eye-opening—now that he's had a taste of what he's been missing out on all these years, he's lost. He belongs here. Naked, with Dean in his arms. 

He should probably think about getting up, though. Dawn doesn’t mean much to those who live underground, but even the warding around the bunker can't block the energy stirring at the break of day. 

As the night has passed, Castiel has become less sure about what Dean's feelings might be on this whole turn of events. He had just appeared in Dean's bedroom while the man was masturbating, after all—perhaps he had just taken advantage of the situation. 

He tries to ignore the little voice telling him that Dean’s going to freak out when he wakes up, but it’s insistent. Dean doesn't exactly have a history of relationships longer than one night, after all. Patience is second nature to celestial beings, but through the years Castiel has lived on Earth, watching Dean go through one night stands in random towns has always made his chest ache in ways he was unprepared for. Why would Dean want to keep doing this with him? Having sex with your best friend has to be the fastest way to get him kicked out of the bunker, isn’t it? 

No. No, he won’t let that happen again. He's known that he loves Dean for a long time now, Heavenly taboos be damned. It's time to make sure Dean knows that he's here to stay. 

Flicking his fingers, he fixes the lamp bulb with a _plink_ sound, flooding the bedroom with light. 

He shifts and presses a kiss to Dean's forehead, just under his hairline. When Dean doesn't stir, Cas kisses one of his eyelids softly, then the other. He moves down to Dean's lips briefly before continuing to press kisses along his jaw, to the soft skin under his ear and down to his shoulder. He breathes Dean's musky scent and an involuntary growl forces its way out of him. He glances up at Dean's face as he shifts and sees Dean blink his eyes, watching him with a lazy hunger. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas rumbles, his voice rough with disuse and desire. 

Dean doesn't reply, but combs his fingers through Cas’ hair with a pleasant tugging sensation. It's gentle, but his head feels heavy, like he isn't quite awake…isn't quite… 

He blinks and the world shifts. He's lying on something soft, but it isn't Dean's bed. He's not looking up at Dean, but squinting at Sacha. Bright rays of a sun low on the horizon shine through a break in the wall behind her, making his dry eyes sting. The dream…how could he have forgotten? He can't make out her tattooed face in the shadow but hears her snarl. She lunges forward, sinking her teeth into his shoulder and he flinches from the sharp pain, and Dean's room slams back into being. 

Dean looks up from where he's biting Cas’ shoulder, concern written across his face. Somehow Cas has flipped onto his back, and Dean hovers above him. “You okay? I'm sorry, was that too hard?” Castiel’s shock must be clear, because Dean starts to sit up. 

Cas grabs his arm and pulls him back down until their lips meet. When Dean still hesitates a little, Cas says, “I’m fine, don’t worry.” He smiles through a lingering feeling of unease. 

Dean gives him a skeptical look and goes back to kissing at Cas’ shoulder, working his way down to lick at a hard nipple. The blankets ruck up against Dean’s back, and the cool air in the bedroom sends goosebumps across Cas’ chest. He's surprised by his vessel’s reactions to all this—he’s known for many years that he's capable of arousal, even after Jimmy was no longer around, but the pleasure to be had merely from being touched by someone else is incredible. His body knows what to do, and he gasps as Dean slides further south, rubbing across his already hard penis as he moves. Dean ducks under the blanket, pulling it over his head completely and mouthing at Cas’ left hip. As his mouth closes over the head of Cas’ cock, Cas lets out a low moan, shuddering as Dean licks at the head, then down the side. He nips and sucks his way back to the tip, then takes as much of Cas’ length in his mouth as he can, bobbing up and down with a delicious rhythm. 

Cas shoves the bedcovers down to expose Dean’s head and shoulders, and his grace wells up, making his skin tingle all over. As Dean moans around his cock, the vibration sends a shudder up Cas’ spine. He bucks his hips up into Dean’s mouth. “Dean? I’m…I’m...” Dean pops off and pumps Cas hard, his fist squelching up and down the spit-slick shaft. Cas’ grace flares as he comes, the lamp bulb popping again and warm wetness pumping across his stomach. 

Cas relaxes back onto Dean’s pillow, breathing hard, one arm over his face. His wings are glowing again—he can feel them partially in the physical plane folded awkwardly underneath him, so he quickly banishes them, fixing the lamp again for good measure.

Dean moves up the bed, leaning on one elbow. “You okay?” he murmurs, and leans forward to place a kiss on Cas’ hand. 

Cas moves his arm and smiles at him. “I think this might be the most okay I have ever been.”

Dean chuckles at that. “Sorry about the mess. I’ve just never…” He pauses, waving a hand vaguely. 

“You have never performed fellatio?” Castiel asks, frowning. That isn’t anything to be ashamed of—he hasn’t either, after all.

“No, actually I… I have. I just meant I’ve never… I’ve never swallowed it before, okay?” Dean looks away, his cheeks tinged slightly red.

“Dean?” Cas reaches out to place his palm against Dean’s face. “Don’t worry, it’s easily cleaned up.” He waves his hand and the fluids are gone. “Besides, I'm just going to make you messy again anyway.”

Dean's gaze darkens as he lies back, and he lets out a breathy moan as Castiel licks his way down Dean's body, tasting his bare skin. 

It isn’t really the sexual act itself that he's enjoying so much, Cas realizes. It's very nice, of course, but he feels less sensation than he had when he was fully human. It's more the joy of Dean wanting him to touch him like this, to give him pleasure, that Cas finds so wonderful, and he can't get enough. 

He takes his time to bring Dean undone, enjoying the sounds Dean makes as he licks up his length, the way he breathes his name, the feel of Dean's firm flesh under velvety skin on Cas’ tongue. Dean comes with a shout, taking Cas by surprise. He swallows reflexively as the warm liquid splashes the back of his throat. The taste isn't quite pleasant, but Cas is so busy admiring the sight of Dean’s ecstasy that he barely notices. 

Dean slumps back onto the pillows, eyed closed. Cas moves up to join him, pressing a kiss to the corner of Dean's mouth, unsure if he wants to taste himself on Castiel's tongue. He needn't have worried—Dean chases his lips as Cas lies down beside him, pulling him into a tangle of limbs. 

Dean rests his head on Cas’ shoulder with a sigh. “That was pretty incredible for your first time, Cas. It was…your first time, right?” He opens one eye to peer at Cas. 

Cas chuckles. “Yes. Although I have done some research on the subject.”

“Have you, now? Coulda fooled me. I wondered why you're always so keen to borrow my computer at night. I guess showing you incognito mode paid off.” Dean grins, shoving playfully at Cas’ side. 

Cas sighs, pulling Dean into him with the arm wrapped around his shoulders. He places a kiss into Dean's hair, inhaling the sweet scent of Sam’s fancy shampoo that Dean is adamant he doesn't use. He considers with wonder how long it's taken them to finally get here. If he could only stay here, like this, forever, he'd be very happy. 

Dean mumbles into Cas’ skin, “As much as I'd like to stay here forever, I'm starving.”

Cas blinks, surprised at the sudden voicing of his own thoughts. “Could we just stay here a little longer?” He isn't quite ready to give up this new experience just yet. 

“Mmm,” Dean says as he nuzzles his face into Cas’ neck. It's a very pleasant feeling that goes straight to Cas’ core, especially as Dean starts pushing kisses to his jaw. He wonders if he could remove their fatigue with grace, and go for round two right away.

Dean stops for a moment and puts his head back on Cas’ shoulder. “So, does angel jizz have magical properties? Am I gonna develop super strength or something if I do swallow it?”

Cas lets out an amused huff. “No, although there may be some grace component to it. I could give you grace without having to ejaculate, though. My guess is that it's mostly Jimmy's genetic material.”

Dean's smile drops. “Well that doesn't sound quite so appetizing.”

“Why don’t you go have breakfast instead?”

“Mmm, might shower first,” Dean says, stretching his arms above his head. “You gonna join me?” Dean looks into Cas’ eyes and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. Cas is caught by the breathtaking green and leans forward to place a kiss on Dean's lips, just because he’s allowed to now. 

Dean must have mistaken his pause for apprehension, because he reassures Cas, “I can check if the others are up if you'd rather not do the walk of shame.”

“What? No, I don't care about that. They probably already know. You're not exactly quiet.”

“Speak for yourself!”

Cas brushes his fingers through Dean's hair. “I can just fly us in there, anyway.”

Dean studies Cas’ face for a moment, then says quietly, “Oh yeah, wings. So when did that happen? Did your, uh, friend in the Empty bring them back?”

His wings… They’re still a mystery to Cas. After he had found himself thrown from the Empty, back alive and on earth, he'd checked himself out and realized with disappointment that he was back to the state he'd been when he'd died—grounded, with fading grace. Now, to be at full power and able to fly… It's a miracle, and he's not sure where it has come from. 

“I…don't know. I only found out yesterday, when Jack told me he could see them.”

Dean's eyebrows rise. “You think he brought them back?”

“No, he told me he could always see them. At least, I didn’t see him using his power.”

“Hm.” Dean shrugs after a moment, then backs off the bed. “C’mon then, let’s zap to the bathroom.”

***

Thankfully the bathroom is empty when they both arrive. They had taken the time to get dressed again first just in case anyone had been around, but they needn’t have bothered. 

One very soapy, steamy shower later, they creep out of the bathroom, heading for the kitchen. Sam is there, sitting at the table with books and notes spread out around his laptop, one eyebrow raised at the pair of them.

Dean steps forward, obviously trying for nonchalance. “Hiya, Sammy.”

Castiel steps out from behind Dean, wishing Sam a good morning as he heads for the coffee pot to pour two cups. He doesn’t usually partake of the stuff, but this morning there’s an irresistible smell to it that he hasn’t experienced in a while. He turns, noticing that Dean hasn’t moved from his place by the door, even though Sam has mumbled a greeting and gone back to reading his notes.

Castiel holds one cup out to Dean, who comes over to take it with a murmured, “Thanks.” He moves towards the table, sitting down opposite Sam, while Cas leans back against the counter.

“You catch a case?” Dean says, sipping at his coffee.

Castiel actually misses Sam’s reply as he sips at his own drink, the rich, earthy notes filling his senses. Since when had he been able to _taste_ coffee? Taste _anything_ , for that matter? He’s missed the ability to taste food ever since that last time he was human, but how can he have suddenly gained taste, while having his wings back as well? What’s happening to him?

A wave of dizziness overcomes him and he stumbles, his vision flashing as though the sun is shining right into his eyes for a moment. He hears a muffled “Sleep, angel,” then a sharp pain in his arm brings him back to the kitchen as he slumps to the floor, hot coffee exploding out of the smashed mug next to him.

Dean jumps up again and rushes over. “Cas!” 

Cas lets Dean help him to sitting, disoriented and heavy-limbed. “What… what happened?” 

“You tell me. One minute you were standing there, then you just collapsed!” Dean’s concerned face is very close to Castiel’s as he gingerly gets to his feet, still unsteady. He wants to lean into Dean, but remembers that Sam doesn’t know about them just yet. They’ll have to tell him eventually.

“I...I think I’m okay now, thank you, Dean.” He sinks onto the bench seat next to Sam, who also sits back down. Dean busies himself with cleaning up the spilled coffee as Cas eyes the research on the table. “So, what’ve you got?” he asks Sam, rubbing at his arm. There’s an itch there that he can’t quite seem to scratch.

Sam eyes him warily. “You sure you’re okay, Cas? You don’t usually just...faint like that.”

“I’m fine,” he says firmly. He notices one of the books is open to a page about the angelic hierarchies. “Is this something to do with angels?” 

Sam shares a glance with Dean before replying. “Actually I was looking up some lore about nephilim. The actual case is pretty simple. A few people have gone missing, then their bodies have been found a few days later, hearts ripped out.” 

Dean brings another cup of coffee over to Cas, who accepts it with a smile. Their fingers touch as Dean passes the cup, and a delicious shiver works its way up Castiel’s arm. 

Dean smiles gently at Cas, then they both turn to look at Sam, who is sitting quietly, observing both of them. “Sorry, what was that?” Dean asks, full of innocence. 

“Werewolves,” Sam says, deanpan. “Look, guys, I’m really happy that you’ve finally got over whatever...hang-ups you had, but could you just keep it to a dull roar when other people are around? I already may never get over the sounds coming from that bedroom last night or this morning, but if you could at least wait until I can get some noise-cancelling—”

Dean interrupts him, “Okay, okay. Sorry.” He grins impishly at Cas. “It’s a shame we never did this sooner though, right? Cas does this amazing thing with his—” 

“No!” Sam stands up abruptly, hands covering his ears. “I really do not want to know.”

Dean laughs, and Castiel can’t help but smile as well. “Come on, what’ve you got?”

Sam sits back down with a fond look on his face, and relief floods through Cas as he realizes that Sam’s fine with it all. 

Sam outlines the rest of the details about the case. Three people have been killed around the small farming community of Springlake, Kansas, just a couple hours drive away. The bodies were all found a few weeks ago around the last full moon, but a few witnesses reported seeing a man hanging around the murder scenes, and the police had only just identified him as a local farmer, Robert Ungermann. 

“So we roll in, find where this, uh, Ungermann is holing up, then ice him before the next full moon. Should be a milk run.”

Sam doesn't look as confident as Dean obviously is. “I mean yeah, it does look like an open-shut werewolf case, but the fact that this guy is hanging around is weird to me. We can check it out, anyway.”

“Have we got time for this? The full moon is what, tomorrow night?”

“The following night,” Cas says, then drains the last of his coffee. 

“We could head up there tomorrow, take a look around?” Sam shuts his laptop with a snap. “Apparently the guy’s an active member of the church community there. Seems like a good place to start.”

“Sure. I’m gonna cook a big dinner tonight, since we’re all here. We can head out in the morning, take Jack along. Kid hasn’t seen werewolves yet, has he?”

“You think he's ready to head out on a case again?” Sam wonders. 

Cas nods. “I haven't heard the full story about what he and Mary went through in the other world, but getting out there is probably better than staying here in the bunker.”

“I dunno,” says Sam with a grin. “He's pretty attached to his Netflix right now. I’ll ask him.” He stands up, taking the empty cups to the sink and returning to gather his laptop and books. As he heads into the library, Dean turns to Cas.

“Speaking of, you don’t have anything pressing to do this afternoon, right? Wanna watch a movie or something?” He grins hopefully.

How is Castiel supposed to refuse an invitation like that? He’s powerless to do anything other than let Dean take his hand and lead him out of the kitchen towards his room.

***

That afternoon is one of the most pleasant Castiel can remember (and he can remember a lot of afternoons). They lie on Dean’s memory foam, trading lazy kisses and touches and one very heated hand job, and they occasionally watch a few episodes of some show about a fictional police department that Cas really doesn’t pay attention to. He’s far too busy enjoying every point where his body touches Dean’s, still not quite able to believe that it’s happening.

Late in the afternoon, Dean stretches his arms above his head and gets up, grabbing his shirt from where it had ended up on the floor. “I'm gonna go make a start on dinner. Why don't you go see what the others are up to?”

“Sure you don't need help?” Cas asks hopefully, reaching out his hand to touch Dean's hip. 

Dean laughs, his eyes twinkling. “Come on, man, we've been in each other’s space for pretty much twenty-four hours. Give me a few minutes to catch my breath?”

 _No_ , he nearly says. _I don’t want to leave your side ever again_. Is Dean having second thoughts already? He says, “Of course, Dean. I’ll be in the library.”

As he stands up from the bed, he pulls on his own trousers and shirt. Dean pulls him in for a kiss while he’s still doing up buttons. Cas smiles into it, and thinks that one of these days they’re going to have to spend a lot longer than twenty-four hours in bed.

Twenty-four… _Twenty-four hours_ …

Castiel's vision narrows to the man in front of him. _The dream!_ Something is making him forget about the djinni and her dream. His heart is suddenly in his throat. He has to remember, has to get out of here now that time is up. He reaches forward and brushes his suddenly numb fingers down Dean's cheek. He realizes he doesn’t want to leave this idyll. “Thank you, Dean. For everything.”

Dean blinks at him, then his eyes narrow in concern. He grips Castiel’s forearm, but Cas can barely feel it. “You okay, man? You fading out again? It's okay, I'm right here. Don’t go.” His voice sounds wrong, like he’s speaking underwater. 

Castiel shakes his head. He feels unmoored, like the room is swaying. “I'm fine. I…I think I'll just lie back down for a little while.” He stumbles backwards and lies back on the bed, forcing himself to focus on the dream so that he won't forget again. The bedroom solidifies somewhat around him, and he hears Dean saying, “Okay then, man. Just shout if you need me.” He leaves the door open behind him. 

Castiel sits up again, then gets to his feet beside the bed. He takes a few deep breaths to try to get a hold on his racing heart. “Sacha?” Castiel calls. “Time's up. Let me go with the fruit from the tree.”

Sacha saunters in through the open door. She looks him up and down suggestively, saying, “You want to leave so soon? Haven't you been enjoying your ‘family time’?” She lifts her fingers in mocking air quotes. 

Castiel’s back stiffens and he tries to put Dean out of his mind. “I've fulfilled my part of the bargain. Let me go.”

“Actually, no.” Sacha says, walking right up to him, her face just a few inches away. Reality flickers again and Castiel watches the black lines appear on her face, the deep shadows of the ruined castle around them cut with bright sunlight. Dean’s bedroom flicks back and Sacha steps away from him.

Cas stares at her. “No?”

“Time moves differently in dreams. Out there,” she points vaguely upwards, “only a few hours have passed. Just relax! Enjoy your time with your lover-boy hunter.”

Cas’ stomach feels hollow. “No, I can't stay here. This is not how it will ever be in the real world. He's not—he doesn't—”

Sacha scoffs, interrupting. “He _does_ , I'd bet my life on it. It's obvious in how your subconscious constructed him. He's in love, but doesn't know what to do about it.”

Castiel shakes his head helplessly. That can't be right. Dean might be many things, but Cas has never known him to be backward in coming forward. If he returns Cas’ affections, he would know by now. Wouldn't he?

He puts that thought out of his mind and turns to a more pressing question. “Why do I keep forgetting the dream?”

Sacha gives a nonchalant shrug as she wanders over to Dean’s desk, running one sharp fingernail over the wooden surface. “Having too much fun? Honestly I have no idea. I've never bitten a seraph before—I had no idea how my venom would affect you.”

No. This is bad. Dangerous. If he gets lost in the dream, how will he get out again? He has already gone further with this Dean than the real Dean would ever have allowed things to go. He curses himself again for being so stupid as to get into this situation in the first place. “Please, just let me out now. How do I know you'll let me out at the right time?” he asks. 

“A deal’s a deal, seraph. You'll know, don't worry. I promise I'll let you know.” She smiles sweetly, then laughs at Cas’ scowl. “You know, being in here while you're so… lucid, is a fascinating experiment. Show me what other wishes you've got tucked away in here!”

Cas clenches his teeth and glares. “What I wish is for you to get out of my head.”

“Uh uh,” Sacha says, wagging her finger with a sly grin. “You're stuck with me until wake up time.”

Is he really, though? He's been wishing for things unintentionally, and they have appeared—Dean coming to him, the return of his wings, even the ability to taste coffee had to have been some kind of a wish. Maybe it works in the opposite direction, and he can wish her away. No, that might break the dream and ruin the deal. Perhaps he can at least make her quieter…and maybe let dream-Sam keep a little something as well. He concentrates, closing his eyes. When he opens them, Sacha is gone. In her place stands a dog. A sleek, brown-haired King Charles spaniel, glaring at him. 

Castiel stares at the dog in surprise for a few moments, then a grim, satisfied smile creeps over his face. 

Sacha gives a whine, then a short “Wuff?” 

Castiel hears Sam before he appears through the door. Uh oh. “Sacha? Sacha!” When he sees Cas in his room, he adds, “Have you seen Sacha?”

Cas looks towards the dog, not sure how he’s going to explain what he's just done to Sam’s girlfriend, but Sam's face lights up. 

“Oh, there you are! Come on girl, I've got some dinner for you.” He drops to a squat and Sacha bounds over, yapping and barking at him. “Now, now, no barking in the bunker, remember?” He strokes the top of her head gently and scratches behind her ear, then jumps back to his feet. 

Castiel can barely contain a snort. “So, uh, how long have you had the dog living here?”

Sam gives him a quizzical look. “Told you last night, she came through with Bobby from the other world. Seems to have taken a liking to me.” He grins. 

“And how does Dean feel about this? I can't see him agreeing to it…”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Yeah, he's not happy. But he's coming ‘round. Anyway, let's go get dinner. Come on, Sacha!” 

He backs out of the room, and Sacha the dog throws Cas a hate-filled glare before she trots after him. 

Cas chuckles to himself, then sighs, looking around the room, wondering what he was doing when the dog came in. He considers going back out to look for Dean, then he remembers what he’d said about needing to “catch his breath”. He’s not really sure what he means by that—he would be fine spending every hour with Dean, now that he’s allowed to touch, to taste… 

Might as well investigate what's happening in the library. He’s not sure what Dean was so worried about earlier, anyway. He feels fine. 


	4. Chapter 4

In the library, Sam is setting up a small black device next to his laptop. He touches it and it makes a strange tapping sound. 

Cas moves closer, curious. “Sam? Did you find a new device in the archive?”

Sam grins as he looks up. “No, Cas, it's a portable speaker. I picked it up last time we were in town—thought it'd be nice to have some tunes while we're working in here.”

Castiel nods, recalling seeing the devices in a store they'd recently been in. He sits at the table, waiting to see what music Sam plays. He usually enjoys Sam's eclectic taste, although he doesn't often get much of a chance to hear it. 

“Mom? You wanna come pick something?”

“Sure.” Mary has just entered from the kitchen, and she wanders up the stairs to the library and sits in front of the laptop. “What…? Is the music on the computer?”

“Hasn't anyone shown you Spotify yet? It's a streaming service. The music comes from the internet.”

“Oh.” Mary clicks around. “I wouldn't know where to start. How about recently played? Oh, no. I don't know many of these. The Killers, Death Cab For Cutie? Tesseract? What strange names!” She reads further down the list, then looks up with a smile. “You like Fleetwood Mac?”

“Yeah, I do,” Sam says defensively. “Is that bad?”

“No, they're one of my favorites! I used to listen to them all the time—you probably heard them a lot when you were a baby, before…” She trails off, her smile dropping. 

Jack puts his hand on Mary's forearm, comforting her. The nephilim continues to surprise Cas every day with his maturity, although they haven't had that many days together yet. Cas is glad he had made it back from the other world. 

Except he hasn't, has he? 

The room fades, darkness closing in from his periphery. Cas tries to shake the dizziness from his mind, but the world continues to whirl, to blink in and out. He sees the tree of life, illuminated in brilliant sunshine. He sees Sacha, her face lowered to his forearm, her teeth sunk in his flesh. He recoils in horror, but is surprised by a voice. 

“Castiel?” 

It’s Jack. The bunker library snaps back into focus. Jack continues, “Have you listened to this music before?”

“I… a—a little, yes.” He tries to relax and shake off his unease, but then music starts to come through the speaker, calm and rhythmic. Sam sits back, a look of rare relaxation in his face. He jumps in fright when he suddenly finds a dog on his lap, trying to lick his face. “Sacha! Okay okay, no licking!” Sacha turns around and flops into his lap, curling up comfortably. 

Cas can't help but let out a snort. He doesn't think he's ever seen Sam happier than when he’s cuddled up with that dog. He taps his fingertips on the table in time with the music. It sounds vaguely familiar, but he doesn't think it’s on any of Dean's tapes. He smiles as he thinks of Dean, and figures he’s had his “space” now. He stands up, moving away from the table to walk down the steps towards the kitchen passage. 

As he moves, a new song starts, slower, more gentle. Mary gasps. “Oh, ‘Songbird’. I used to sing this to you when you were going to sleep,” she tells Sam with a smile in her voice. 

Dean is in the kitchen, stepping gracefully between the bench and the stove top. He grabs a spoon to stir something in a pan. 

Castiel watches him for a moment, his heart full. He's only seen Dean like this a handful of times—light, carefree. He silently thanks Jack for pulling him out of the Empty so that he could be here to witness it again. The entity there had poked about in his head, dragging painful facts to the surface. After that, he had desperately needed to get back to Earth, back to Dean, even though he had learned that his greatest fear was that Dean wouldn’t ever return his affections, and that when the brothers no longer needed him, he’d be forced to leave the bunker, wandering the world alone.

Dean notices Castiel standing by the door and turns to him, and Cas has to catch his breath as Dean smiles. This is it. He’s finally found his place. He never has to feel like he needs to leave again.

He moves closer to where Dean leans against the counter and pushes into his space, their hips aligning deliciously. 

Cas growls, “Hello, Dean,” and kisses him with all of the fire and frustration he's been saving up for the last ten years. 

Dean grunts with surprise, but quickly gets on board and licks his tongue into Cas’ mouth, one hand on his cheek. Cas pushes one knee between Dean's and grinds their hips together.

Mary clears her throat as she comes into the kitchen, and Cas catches a soft smile on her face when he spins around to look. 

He steps away from Dean quickly, hoping she hasn't got too much of an eyeful, but it seems she's seen the whole thing from the way she’s avoiding eye contact as she crosses to the fridge. Dean turns back to whatever he was stirring on the stove, and all Cas can do is stand awkwardly bedside him. 

“Sorry to interrupt.” Mary grabs three beer bottles from the fridge and closes it again, pausing as she turns. “I'm so happy for you both. You deserve happiness, after all you've been through.” She smiles. 

“Thank you,” Castiel says, not sure how else to convey his gratitude that she accepts her son’s choice of partner. 

“I'll just, uh…leave you to it.” She hightails it out of the room and Dean releases a breath. 

“Jesus, that was awkward.” 

“I don't know, I thought it was sweet.” Castiel smiles and shuffles closer to Dean again, placing a kiss to the back of his neck as Dean continues stirring the pot on the stove top. 

Dean shrugs him off gently. “All right, Casanova, this is ready. Could you get everyone in here please?”

The dinner is delicious—beef burgers with crispy bacon and oven-baked chips, including some kind of honeyed carrots that Dean says is to appease the salad-munchers, but which he still piles onto his plate. 

They gather around the kitchen table, and Cas, for the first time, samples all of it. He still doesn't really feel the need to eat, but the flavors are incredible on his tongue and he wants to experience them all. 

After the meal is finished, Jack and Sam clear away the plates, then Jack says, “Please excuse me everyone. I’d like to go finish watching something before we have to leave tomorrow.”

Sam speaks up, interested. “Oh? What’re you watching?”

“I’m getting close to the end of _Flash_ season three. I started trying to watch _Jessica Jones_ , but the bad guy was way too scary.” Jack shakes his head with a shudder.

Sam chuckles. “Remind me to introduce you to _Doctor Who_ sometime.”

Dean says, “Goodnight, Jack.” His eye roll probably means he’s trying to derail an overly nerdy conversation, but Cas was there when Dean watched and enjoyed some of those shows. Dean still baffles him sometimes, the way he continues to try to play down some things he enjoys.

A chorus of “goodnights” sounds around the table, and Jack heads off to his room. 

Dean pours a few glasses of whiskey and passes one each to Sam and Castiel, but before he can pour another, Mary holds up a hand.

“Not for me, thanks,” she says, trying to hold back a yawn. She stands up, gathering up the last few cups from the table. “I gotta get some sleep. Don’t worry about this stuff, we can sort it out in the morning.” She trails her free hand over Bobby’s shoulder as she walks past him. 

Bobby waits until Mary leaves the kitchen before he throws his whiskey back in a gulp, then also gets to his feet. “Time for me to turn in as well, I reckon. You boys don’t stay up too late, now.”

Dean offers him a smirk as he heads out. “Keep it down in there, old man.”

“Hey, you shut your face, idjit.” Bobby says, his face an interesting shade of red. 

Dean holds his hands up, looking innocent. “I was talking about the snoring, man! Jeez, what’d you think I was talking about?”

Bobby heads out and Dean turns back to Cas and Sam, eyebrows raised. “Gonna try real hard not to think about that going on.”

“It’s kind of sweet, though,” Sam says, grinning.

“They have both been through a lot. It must be good to find comfort in each other,” Castiel adds, taking a sip of his whiskey and marvelling at how it fills his senses with warmth. 

“Yeah, we’ve all been through it. Especially you, Cas.” Dean turns sideways on his bench, leaning back against the wall and crossing his ankles on the seat in front of him. “Tell us about Syria?”

Castiel swallows more of the whiskey, feeling the burn down his throat and right down to his toes. “There’s not much to tell. It’s a warzone—damaged cities, damaged people. It never gets easier to see the devastation of war.”

“You must have seen a few in your time, I guess,” Sam says, carefully. 

Castiel glances at him. Sam’s worried, and he can understand why, but he’s right, Castiel has seen it before. It still affects him though, and worse now that he’s lived among humans and knows their trials and challenges. He doesn’t want to burden his friends with the destruction, the desperate children, the injured he couldn’t help, so he keeps it vague. “I have. Civil Wars are hard, because there’s no easy end in sight. The whole country could end up decimated before any talks are held. I did find the tree, though…” He trails off, confused for a moment.

“I thought you said you never found it?” Dean asks, then throws back the last of his whiskey.

Castiel tries to concentrate, but something isn’t quite right again. His voice sounds fuzzy when he speaks. “I did find it. It’s beautiful. But they…they wouldn’t let me have any fruit, unless I…”

The room disappears and Castiel is in the dark. No, there’s a dim glow coming from somewhere, and he’s aware of a pressure on his lower leg. He tries to lift his head to look down, but it’s heavy...so heavy. He rolls it to the side with a grunt, and the person leaning over his leg looks up with a start, their eyes glowing blue in the gloom. The figure makes a sound, a hissing, and drops back to attack his leg.

He convulses violently and is suddenly back in the bunker kitchen, both Sam and Dean next to him, holding onto each of his arms. 

“Cas? You with us?” Dean asks, concern in his voice.

Sam sits back again, but holds out Cas’ drink to him. 

Cas accepts the glass and blinks a few times at Dean. He really is looking beautiful today, in a dark green shirt over his black t-shirt. He pulls himself together. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what came over me.”

Dean is staring at him. “Dude, I'm worried about you. These zoning out episodes—it's weird.”

He’d zoned out again? Castiel isn’t even aware of it happening, except for a vague disorientation afterwards. “What? No, don't worry about me, Dean. I'm fine.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Maybe you should, I dunno, see someone, talk it through.”

Cas scoffs. “Angels do not need therapy.”

“That's bullshit. You guys’ve got more daddy issues than the Skywalkers.”

Sam snorts. “Cas, it might really help. To talk to someone you who's not one of us, or maybe you could...I dunno, write it all down or something.”

“What would I say? ‘Hello, I'm an ancient celestial being who, even though I have seen countless wars and killed thousands of people, my own siblings among them, I am only now getting PTSD from visiting a war zone’? They'd lock me up.”

“But just a few weeks ago you were dead, and then some—” Dean waves his hand in the air, his voice raised, “—some entity brings you back! Maybe…” 

Silence falls around the table. Dean clams up, like he's regretting what he just said. 

Cas blinks at Dean, a cool feeling of betrayal creeping over his skin. “You think I'm not all back. That I'm not all…” he gestures to his head with one hand, “not all here. Don't you?”

Sam starts with, “No, no, of course we don't…” but Dean interrupts him. 

“Well, with all that crap with Donatello and teaming up with Lucifer… it's kinda weird, that's all I'm saying.”

Castiel frowns, an icy sensation clenching at his gut. Maybe Dean’s right. After all the reprogramming he went through at the hands of the archangels and seraphim, eventually that was bound to have a detrimental effect, wasn't it? Perhaps the Empty spat him out…broken. 

And if that’s the case, he’s a ticking time bomb. Who knows what might happen if he suddenly snaps? 

“I need to leave.”

Dean eyes widen and he leans forward, reaching out a hand towards Cas as though he’s a startled animal. “What? What d’you mean leave?” 

“I can't stay here. If I'm…compromised, I don't want to be a danger to you or Sam or Jack or anyone.”

Sam sounds almost as panicked as Dean when he says, “No, you don't need to go anywhere. We can help you, man, or get you some help.”

“I don't need help, Sam. I just need for you to be safe.”

Both brothers are half-out of their seats when he says, “I'm sorry,” and flies. 

***

He doesn't fly far. He'll never forgive himself if he doesn't say goodbye to Dean, although it's probably best if he doesn't see the others before leaving. He sits down on the memory foam of Dean's bed and waits, trying not to think about the night they'd just spent here. 

Cas hears the sound of running feet in the corridor just before the door bursts open and Dean flies in, letting out a relieved breath when he sees Cas. 

“He's here, Sam,” he calls back down the corridor, then shuts the door behind him. He moves forward a step, then releases another breath, sounding exasperated. “Why'd you flap off like that? We thought you'd gone.”

Cas’ heart lurches at the sad desperation in his eyes, but he tries to stay firm. He stands up, back straight. “I can't stay, Dean. It's too dangerous.”

“But where would you go?” Dean's voice is quieter now, pleading. 

“I'm sure I can find somewhere quiet and out of the way, where I won't hurt anyone…”

Dean steps forward again, scowling. “No. I don't care if you think you're dangerous! You belong here with us. With _me_.”

His loyalty makes Cas’ chest ache, but he tries to disagree anyway. “Dean, I—”

“No, don't say it doesn't matter.” He reaches forward to take Cas’ hand. “We'll get through this together, whatever it is!”

Cas opens his mouth to disagree again, but before he can speak Dean continues, quieter again but still mesmerising Cas with his beautiful green eyes. “I don't want you to leave, Cas. I…I love you.”

Castiel lets out a gasp. Dean never talks about his feelings—never expresses anything personal without making it a joke. For him to say that, in all seriousness, his face open and terrified—it's like a physical blow. 

Castiel brings his free hand up to Dean's face, cupping his cheek gently. 

“Dean…” he breathes. 

“Don't leave me again.”

“I won't. I promise.” Castiel pulls him in, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tightly. Dean buries his face in Cas’ neck for a long moment, and when he pulls away Cas feels the cool wetness of tears left behind. 

Dean grabs Cas’ face and crushes their mouths together, and Cas responds, desperately needing to be as close to Dean as he can. 

Cas is aware of Dean's soul, shining and perfect. For most people, souls are well-hidden, buried deep under their insecurities and self-preservation, but after such a heartfelt confession, Dean's soul calls to him as it did in Hell. He wants to reach out and soothe it with his grace, but he's not sure what the effect would be. 

He pulls away sharply when Dean gasps. Dean's face is bathed in a blue glow, as he looks over Cas’ shoulder. 

“What is it?” Oh, his wings. He keeps forgetting they’re there. He steps back, embarrassed. 

Dean reaches out to grab his forearm. “Wait… Can I touch?” His eyes are wide, and he's hardly breathing. 

Castiel considers. The wings are different than they used to be. Less powerful, perhaps. Maybe his bond with Dean makes him able to perceive them. He says, “I don't know. They're only partially in this plane. Close your eyes, let me see if I can make them more…solid.”

When Dean's eyes are closed, Cas removes his coat and jacket. He wills his grace into the wings, making them glow brighter. He stretches them out across the small space of Dean's room from wall to wall, relishing the sensation. 

“Try looking now—carefully.”

Dean opens his eyes a crack, then fully, talking in the twelve-foot wingspan. He breathes out, “Cas, they're awesome!”

Cas says, “Thank you.”

Dean's eyes roam over the rest of Castiel, and he licks his lips. Cas mirrors the action, his mouth suddenly dry. 

“And you… You are…” Dean reaches forward and runs a hand over Cas’ chest, making his breath quicken. He trails the hand up to Cas’ shoulder, then gently, hesitantly, runs his fingers along the ridge of Castiel's left wing. 

Cas gasps as Dean strokes his hand downwards over the soft wing within his reach. The feathers glow more brightly in the wake of Dean's fingers, a shimmering glow that fades a few moments later. The awakening of the grace in his wings sends blood rushing downwards, and if Dean keeps doing that…this could all be over very quickly. 

Castiel knows that when two angels share grace they both become stronger. It isn't usually a sexual thing—angels aren't sexual beings unless they spend time on earth—but Castiel has shared grace with others in his flight before—Anna, Benjamin, Ishim… he shudders slightly at the memory of his fallen comrades and their fates. 

Dean must have noticed a change in his expression, and he draws his hand back sharply. “What is it? Am I hurting you?”

Castiel shakes his head, smiling. “Not at all. It feels nice. I think my grace… recognizes your soul.”

“My soul?” He places his hand on his own chest, a look of soft awe on his face. 

Castiel nods, unable to shake the smile from his lips. “We have always had a bond, right from when we met in hell. Your soul was the brightest thing by far in that place, even after years of torment. You called out to me—I had no choice but to respond, though my brothers and sisters fell around me. I surrounded you with my grace, and we escaped.” After all these years, everything they had been through together, and this is the first time they’ve actually discussed what happened that first time. 

“That might be the sappiest thing I've ever heard you say.” 

“It's the truth.” Castiel feels raw, exposed. He never intended to share this level of detail with Dean, thinking he'd be repulsed or embarrassed by it. But he just smiles, his right hand moving to his left shoulder and rubbing absently. He returns his hand to Cas’ wing, stroking the feathers. 

“They're not really feathers, are they? Like birds have?” Dean asks, and Cas looks at him, surprised. Dean continues, “I mean, they look like feathers, but they feel all…soft and tingly.”

“Feathers are just a good approximation for humans to visualise. My true wings are manifestations of divine energy, like…” He gives a short gasp, and struggles to explain in a way that might make sense, while his mind is busy sparking from the pleasurable sensation. “Like the fabric of stars. Actually that's a terrible analogy.” 

He shakes his head but Dean just smiles as he trails his fingers through the shorter feathers closer to Cas’ body. “Actually…it sounds great to me.” He looks back to Cas’ face, biting his lip for a moment. “Cas, can I kiss you?”

Cas exhales, his worries going with it. “Yes.”

Dean moves so that their bodies are aligned where they stand, and he pulls Cas’ face to his with both hands. The kiss is gentle and sweet, but when Dean moves a hand behind Cas to drag through feathers, fire shoots down Cas’ spine and his knees nearly give way with the pleasure of it. He gasps, and then growls, sending their remaining clothes to the aether with a surge of grace. He grabs Dean around the torso and spins, throwing him onto the bed with a low growl. 

“H-holy shit, Cas,” Dean pants, his eyes dark with lust. His cock is thick and hard, and Castiel eyes it hungrily as he stretches his wings out for balance and climbs onto the bed after him. He’s about to close his mouth over Dean when Dean lunges forward to put a hand on his shoulder. “Wait,” he says. “Let me take care of you this time?”

Cas sits back on his heels, frowning. “All right.” 

“Here.” Dean moves from his position, piling up some pillows for Cas to lie back on so that his wings aren’t crushed behind him. “Don’t send them away,” Dean says, smiling. He strokes through the fabric of the wing as Cas gets settled on his back, sending jolts of fizzing electricity through him. He never would have expected his wings to produce such pleasurable sensations in the physical plane like this, but it’s incredible. 

Dean leans forward over Cas and kisses him languorously, teasing him with his tongue as he continues running his fingers through feathers. He places a row of kisses along Cas’ jaw, moving lower to suck a little harder at a pulse point. The small flowering of pain is delicious and Cas breathes, “Dean.” 

Dean looks up, a twinkle in his eye. “Just marking my claim. You’re mine, angel.” 

Castiel stares at him, speechless for a moment. He has resigned himself for a long time now to observe and protect from a distance—that he would never have the intimacy with Dean that he craved. How was he now so lucky to get to have _this_? 

Dean moves lower on the bed again and licks his wide tongue over Cas’ nipple, making him gasp and arch his back, enjoying the sensation. But Dean continues kissing down the skin of Cas’ stomach, sucking here and there in a way that Cas suspects will leave marks on his skin. All the while, the fingers of Dean’s left hand remain tangled in the insubstantial short feathers close to Cas’ body, sparks shooting straight to Castiel’s cock. He’s almost painfully hard and desperate for Dean to touch him, but Dean slaps his hand away when he tries to take matters into his own hands. “Uh uh, not yet,” he murmurs, then spends a frustratingly long time tasting the skin on Cas’ right hipbone, sucking, biting, then licking away the sting. 

Finally, _finally_ , he noses his way back to Castiel’s cock, licking first at his balls but pushing away the dense hair to lick a long stripe up to the tip. Cas cries out in ecstasy, but then swallows it when Dean takes his whole length into his mouth, sliding up and down a few times. With one hand, Dean continues gently tugging at the feathers of his wing, while the other moves to Cas’ balls, pulling at the soft skin and dragging his nails over Cas’ perineum. Cas writhes with pleasure, murmuring, “Dean, Dean…” and gasping as his muscles clench.

Dean gently, carefully, runs a finger over Cas’ anus, and Cas flinches away involuntarily. Dean looks up quickly, saying, “Sorry, sorry. I just…”

“No, it’s okay, it was good, don’t stop,” Cas interrupts, with a shy smile. He’s getting into unexplored territory here, even with the pornography he’s watched from time to time. He’s not sure what to do, but he’ll let Dean lead if he wants to.

Dean keeps stroking Cas lazily as he says, “You sure?”

Cas nods, and Dean leans over the side of the bed, fetching something out of the nightstand. He sits back up with a tube in his hand, and Cas blinks at him in wonder when he sees that it’s lubricant. 

Dean squeezes some onto his fingers, gives him a quick grin, then goes back to pleasuring Cas with his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head and sucking obscenely. Amid the explosions of pleasure through his body, Cas is aware of Dean’s finger again teasing his hole, rubbing and exploring. He gasps at the sensation—it’s remarkably pleasant, and when Dean pushes the tip of his finger inside, he calls Dean’s name again. Dean pushes further and Cas is lost in the pleasure as he adds another finger, gently stretching. Then Dean pushes his fingers in a little harder and…oh.

He's read that stimulation of the prostate gland can be pleasurable but nowhere did it mention fireworks behind the eyes and a sudden inability to speak. He releases an incoherent string of syllables and Dean hums in pleasure around his cock. Dean keeps the movements of his fingers in time with his mouth, but when Cas starts writhing around again, he sits up a little and mouths at Cas’ hip again. He looks up, suddenly.

“Cas…Fuck, I…I wanna, can I fuck you?”

Cas takes a moment to appreciate that Dean asked his permission, before he lets his impatience take over. “Yes, yes, get on with it!”

Dean moans, stilling his fingers. “Tell me to do it again?”

Cas growls, “Dean! Fuck me, now!”

Dean extracts his fingers and grabs at his own cock, looking as though he might be able to orgasm spontaneously. 

“Fuck. Fuck, okay. Shit that's hot. Okay.” He slicks himself up and shuffles forward between Cas’ legs, then looks down to Cas again, a question in his eyes. 

Castiel grabs the back of Dean's neck and pulls him down for a searing kiss, then lets out a filthy moan as Dean pushes past his rim. Dean stills, making sure Cas is okay again, breath shallow and eyes dark. “Keep going, _Mitrâ_ ,” Cas urges, barely able to speak around the sensation of his grace flaring in his veins.

Dean starts to move, and Cas’ world shatters. Through the fire rushing through him, he’s aware of his grace rushing out and wrapping Dean in its protection, strengthening their bond. Dean starts to thrust with a steady rhythm, but before he gasps out, “Fuck, Cas… I’m…’m not gonna last long.”

Cas gives a wordless cry and grips his own cock, torn between trying to stop his release and giving himself relief. Before he can decide, Dean tenses up and slams in, letting out a cry that sends Cas rushing over the edge as well. Dean slumps down on Cas’ chest, boneless, and once Cas recovers his functions again, he eases Dean onto his side, removing the sticky mess on his stomach and that Dean has spilled inside him with a rush of grace. He nestles Dean into his wing, and curves both his arm and the arch of the wing up and over him, lying back on the pillows with a blissful peace.

Dean hums in contentment. He murmurs. “Hey, who’s Michelle?”

Castiel blinks a few times and looks down at him. “What? Who?”

“You called me by a name... that wasn’t mine.”

Castiel’s face warms as he realizes he has no control over his mouth when he’s like this. “Oh, _Mitrâ_. It’s Persian. It means truth, and promises. My promise of my love to you, I guess. This isn’t the first time I’ve been to Syria…” He trails off, confused at his thoughts of being in that country.

Dean smiles at him, his warm gaze sweeping away his unease. “Back atcha, Aladdin.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, but pulls Dean into the embrace of his wings, warm and brilliant blue with lingering grace. 

Dean touches Cas’ hip suddenly, making him flinch. “Oops. Sorry, went too hard, there. You gonna heal those?” 

Cas glances down at the bruises flowering on his hip, and shakes his head, smiling. “I like being claimed. I think I’ll keep them.”

Dean reaches up and kisses him gently, and Cas silently thanks whatever miracle happened that finally got them here, together. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gold star if you know what the agent names are referencing in this chapter :)

Dean pulls into a parking spot just outside the Springlake sheriff’s office. They’d left early this morning in the Impala, Cas and Jack sharing the back seat and leaving Sacha at home with Mary and Bobby at Dean’s insistence (“No dogs in the car!”). Fortunately it’s only just over an hour and a half to Springlake, and they make it mid-afternoon after stopping for a bite of lunch along the way.

They're already suited up, so they split up—Dean and Jack head inside to talk to the cops, and Sam and Cas walk towards the church just up the street. 

Aghia Maria Church stands on Main Street, a large, round building, fairly nondescript on the outside. The entryway is dim and cool, with shining iconography hung around the walls, rows of lit candles on stands in front of each of them. 

Castiel feels the Holy energy of the place—its sanctity is soothing, but he frowns when he realizes just how long it has been since he set foot in Heaven. He doesn't usually miss his original home, but here…the yearning surprises him with its intensity. 

A man, dressed in jeans and a white button-down, appears from a door to the side of the entry. “Can I help you?” he asks in a quiet tone. 

Sam steps forward to greet him. “Hi. I'm Agent Elliott, FBI,” he says, pulling out his badge, then gestures to Cas. “This is Agent Allen.”

Rather than fumble in his pocket for his fake badge, Cas reached out his hand for the other man to shake. 

“Welcome. I'm Father Constantinou. What can I do for you, gentlemen?” He reaches forward to shake Sam's hand as well. 

“My colleague and I are investigating a series of deaths in the area. I wonder if you might be able to answer some questions for us?” 

“I'll certainly try, although I don't know a lot about what happened.”

Castiel decides he'd better join in the conversation. He’s proud of himself for getting better at this Fed game—he's come a long way from the days he'd first tried hunting, and Dean has made him watch a lot of _Criminal Minds_ since then. 

“There's a man the police suspect might be connected to the victims—Robert Ungermann?”

“Yes, I know him. Bob's one of our parishioners—a devout man. You don't think that he…I don't believe for one moment that he would ever be involved in a murder!” The priest looks horrified, but Sam jumps in. 

“It's okay, Father. That's why we're here—to work out what really happened. What can you tell us about Bob?”

There's a prickling feeling at the back of Cas’ head that's really starting to annoy him. Before the priest can say anything, Cas gestures to the door of the church, proper. “May I…?”

“Of course, but I assure you, there's nothing in my church that relates to the case.”

“My apologies—I'm a religious architecture enthusiast. May I take a look inside?”

“Oh. All right then, go ahead.” Father Constantinou turns back to Sam, who gives Cas a concerned look. 

Castiel shakes his head at him, and turns to open the door into the church. 

Castiel has always loved churches, with their often soaring, vaulted spaces and decorated windows and interiors. The quiet, sanctified space always calms him, even if what takes place inside these buildings isn't always the work his Father intended. 

Greek Orthodox churches are no different, and he takes a deep breath of the incense-scented air as he admires the colorful murals of the saints and ancient prophets around the walls, and the stylised depictions of the archangels on the domed ceiling. Sometimes lesser ranks of angels are included, but the only place he's ever found a likeness of himself was in one certain church in Greece where he'd saved a child from a fall from a rocky cliff. The monks at the monastery at the top of the cliff had created a shrine for him, calling him “the Protector”. He smiles as he recalls that place. Now that he can once again fly, he should go back to visit—it's been a long while. 

As he loses himself with reminiscing, he feels the itch again, growing towards an audible whine. He peers around the church. There's something pulling at him from the direction of the altar. 

He turns to see Sam coming in the door behind him, looking at him curiously. “What is it?”

“There's something here. Something powerful.” Cas turns back to face the altar, scanning the screen behind it. 

Sam follows him as he moves towards the front of the church. “Powerful, like…magic powerful? Or…?”

“Divine.”

“Right,” Sam says shortly, not sounding convinced as he jogs up the steps to join Cas as he approaches the door to the sanctuary. “Is this angels? Could this be a trap?”

Castiel has considered the possibility, but decides he doesn't care. He pulls his blade from the aether, the reassuring physical weight falling into his hand. He moves ahead of Sam into the sanctuary, finding the small room empty of life. 

The walls are covered in more colorful murals, highlighted in gold. A figure of Jesus presides over four other saints, a benevolent smile on his face and a halo of golden lines radiating from his head. One hand is raised in benediction, the other is pointing downwards and to the left. 

On a shelf below the pointing finger is a tiny box, its lid resting open. Castiel hears Sam gasp behind him as he moves forward. The box is made of wood and has a simple cross carved on the lid, but it hums with energy when he hovers his hand over it, as though a piece of Heaven has fallen to Earth. Just as he's about to pick it up, he hears Sam clearing his throat behind him. 

“Cas? What is it?”

Cas turns to look at Sam, one eyebrow raised. Always so good at perfect interruptions. 

“I believe it's something containing my Father's power.”

Sam looks nervous. “A Hand of God?” 

Castiel nods, turning back to the alcove and reaching out again. The power coming off this thing is incredible, like a miniature sun is packed into it. He thinks of the things he could do with this power. He could rip open a door to the apocalypse world and destroy Michael by himself. He could right a lot of wrongs in this world—no one would be able to stop him. 

“Well, perhaps it might be better if, uh, if I take it then? We don't really know what it might do to you.”

Sam's words filter through to the rational part of his mind, and he draws his hand back from where it had almost touched the box. He turns back to look at Sam again, and his heart clenches at the wariness in his eyes. 

“Sam? Cas?” Dean's voice sounds from the main part of the church. 

Sam snaps the lid of the box closed, and it vanishes from Cas’ awareness. The box must be warded. He feels awful talking something from this place, but they are still potentially facing world-ending powers, and divine power of that potency would almost certainly help. 

Castiel moves out of the sanctuary, resolving to put the Hand of God from his mind. Such power is not for the likes of him. He remembers the trail of destruction last time he'd taken power for himself. It had all ended badly. 

Dean stands near the entrance, but Cas notices Jack on one side of the church, admiring the bright murals. Dean smiles as he looks up from some paperwork at Castiel's approach. Cas touches his shoulder briefly, asking, “Find anything?”

“Yup. There's a farm, other side of town under the name of Robert Ungermann.”

“The priest said he's called Bob.” Sam said as he walked down the aisle behind Cas. 

“Right. Well Bob's farm isn't that far away. If we hurry, we can be back in time for dinner at that steak place just outside of town. Huh?” He grins, winking at Cas. “Cas ‘n I'll take the farm. You guys go check out the morgue? Another dead guy showed up during the night. Hole in the chest.” He points to his own chest, grimacing. 

“Right.”

Dean and Sam continue talking quietly as Castiel wanders over to where Jack stands. The nephilim is studying a shrine bearing lit candles, below a gilt icon of Theotokos, the Virgin Mary. 

As Cas approaches, Jack says quietly, “Castiel, how can I be in here? This is a holy place.”

The tiny crease between Jack's brows makes Cas’ heart ache, but he smiles, putting a hand on Jack's shoulder. “You're not evil, Jack. You choose what to do with your power, remember? You are half-angel, and at least as holy as this place.”

Hope blooms in Jack’s face, and he turns to face Castiel. “I'm just trying to help people, like you and Dean and Sam do.”

Cas smiles again, a warm feeling spreading through him. They do help people. When they aren't scrambling to avoid apocalypses, anyway.

“Just stick with Sam. I know you have already been watching him, but he can teach you so much. He's the best.”

Jack nods.”I'll try.”

“Ready to roll?” Dean asks, joining them. 

***

The farm is dark as Dean pulls the Impala to a stop at the end of the drive. Cas steps out of the car, scanning the area for signs of life, but twilight is rapidly fading and there are no signs of life apart from a few cows lowing in a nearby field. Cas senses their discomfort—they haven't been milked in a while. 

He speaks without turning to look at Dean. “Something’s not right here. Bob had a family?”

Dean joins him, leaning on the side of the car. “Yeah, but just he ‘n’ his wife lived here, far as I can tell.”

Cas nods. “Well, they're not home. And I can't detect werewolves either.”

“Let's take a look around anyway, if no one's home. Keep your eyes open.” 

Dean heads towards the farmhouse, holding his gun low but ready. He knocks gently on the door then moves quietly inside when it swings open, unlatched. 

Castiel follows warily, catching the scent of blood as he crosses the threshold. While Dean heads off through a door to the left, Cas moves towards another doorway on the other side of a cozy living room. The kitchen is in disarray, with smashed crockery and glass covering the floor, except for where a dark shape lies. 

The light clicks on, illuminating a grey-haired woman lying in a pool of blood, a kitchen knife in her hand, and a small cat lapping at the pool of blood near her body. Dean makes a noise of distaste from where he stands by the door, hand on the switch. The cat hisses and runs off at the sudden light and noise. 

“Cats,” Dean scoffs. “Evil little fuckers. Guess this is the wife. She went down swinging by the look of it.”

Cas nods as he squats down by the body. “Yes, but to be attacked in her own kitchen? Doesn't seem like werewolves. She's not scratched much, either.”

Dean moves closer, peering down at the floor. “This blood's fresh. Hasn't ol’ Bob been running around since last full moon?”

Castiel looks up at him, then back down at the corpse. “Perhaps she only just found out.”

Dean moves back to the doorway. “You wanna check upstairs? I'll just go take a look at the barn.”

“Dean?” Cas called, and Dean looked back around the edge of the doorway. “Don't do anything stupid.”

Dean throws him a wink and a wide grin, before heading away again. 

Castiel stands and listens as Dean leaves the house by a back door and his footsteps fade. If this isn't a werewolf case, then what exactly are they dealing with? It could be any number of creatures, but the other deaths were textbook werewolf. 

He heads upstairs, not finding any further clues in the bedrooms. He's just about to go back down when he sniffs, detecting an unmistakable sulfurous stench. _Demons_. 

A floorboard creaks behind him. He spins, finding himself face to face with the farmer's wife, her chest and face covered in blood and still wielding the kitchen knife. 

She grins, her eyes flicking to black. “Hello, dearie.”

Cas grabs his blade from the aether and throws it up to block her lunge. She snarls, pushing back but he stays rigid, deflecting her blows. He pushes her hard, then ducks to the side, letting her stumble a few steps past him. Still not quite in control of this recently-deceased body, then. 

She scampers out of reach, recovering before he can get to her, smirking as she turns. “Lost track of your little boyfriend, didn't you? Nice work though, shacking up with a human. Nice piece of ass, eh?” She winks grotesquely. 

Cas snarls, lunging forward. She easily blocks his strike, laughing. He needs to try to get information before he smites her. 

“What are you doing here? Why kill these people?” he grates out through his teeth as they circle each other, hemmed in by a wardrobe on one side and a bed on the other. 

The demon huffs as Cas’ foot connects with her knee and she stumbles a little as she bites out, “That would be telling.” She lunges forward again, and Cas barely dodges aside as the knife grazes his ear. Suddenly fed up with this charade and worried about Dean, he drops his blade, grabbing her arm and twisting. He slaps his other hand on her forehead and smites her with a scream and a blast of heavenly light. 

Castiel lets her body fall to the floor, feeling himself stumble as the room tilts, begins to flicker in and out…a tall, golden tree…a tattooed woman… 

No! He has to get to…to Dean. He shakes his head and winces as he touches his ear, his fingers coming away bloody before he heals it with a surge of grace. He bends to grab his blade and flies to the barn, only to come up short outside the wooden cladding, landing in the dirt next to it. 

Why is the barn warded? He walks around to the door, cataloguing the angel warding all over the structure. The whole place looks like it might come down at any moment, but it’s strongly protected by sigils, recently-painted and strong. Someone is hiding very carefully from angels. With a sinking feeling, he realizes they could be hiding from _him_. 

The barn’s side door is open and unwarded. Inside, a dim bulb hanging from one of the roof beams shows half the space has been walled off, and this section filled partially with large hay bales. He walks over to the hay and calls, “Dean?” He hears a muffled reply from the adjoining section, but when he turns to follow the voice, he finds himself flung across the room. His head connects with something hard, and through the stars he's seeing he hears handcuffs click-whirr around his wrists. He peers up, seeing that he's now secured with his arms wrapped around an upright support, the Enochian handcuffs muting his grace. 

He blinks a few times at the person standing in front of him—it's…him. With a sudden panicked jump in his chest, he wonders if he's died again and back in the Empty, but then he looks again and sees the trueform behind the illusion. 

“Asmodeus,” he growls. 

The demon prince smiles grimly with Cas’ own features, but speaks quietly with his own drawl. “I see that idiot hasn't done her job properly. I'll just have to do it myself. Soon I'll have Jack, and the world will be on its knees.”

He raises Castiel's own blade ready to stab him, when there's a clatter from elsewhere in the barn. Asmodeus pauses, turning. 

“Cas? You okay? It's demons. I just iced ol’ black-eyed Bob back here—” Dean rounds the corner of the partition and stops short. 

“I know,” Castiel grounds out. “Stay back.”

After a moment where he stares open-mouthed, looking between the two versions of Cas (which may have been comical in another situation), he raises his gun and moves it between the two of them. “Cas? What's going on?”

Cas—the real Cas—speaks up urgently before Asmodeus can. “It's Asmodeus, Dean. He's impersonating me.”

Dean stares at him. 

Asmodeus-as-Castiel lowers the angel blade for a moment and says to Dean, “No, Dean, _this_ is Asmodeus. I subdued him with the handcuffs. We need to kill him and get out of here before more demons show up!”

He raises the blade again, ready to strike, but Dean shouts, “Stop! How do I know which one of you is the real deal? I mean, one of you is clearly lying.” He still holds his gun pointed in their direction, his face starting to look panicked.

Castiel scours his mind for some way he can get out of this without putting Dean in danger. Neither of them are any match for the Prince of Hell in terms of physical strength, even if one of them wasn't restrained. He’s going to have to try to get Dean away from here, and take his chances with Asmodeus. 

He takes a breath. “It's okay, Dean. Just get away from here. Get Jack away—” He cuts off as Asmodeus steps between him and Dean, talking over him. 

“No, no. Shut up. Listen, Dean, this is our best chance to kill him and get it over with!”

Dean eyes him warily. “Kill him with what?”

Asmodeus huffs with impatience. “He’s weakened by the cuffs, see?” He drags the angel blade down Castiel’s cheek, making him cry out in pain.

“Stop! No, don’t do that!” Dean says, rushing forward, but stopping just before he puts a hand on Asmodeus’ arm. 

Castiel grits his teeth through the pain, looking up to see the anguish in Dean’s eyes. 

Dean says, “Tell me…tell me something only you would know.”

This is risky…and he can’t think of anything unique under stress like this. 

Asmodeus speaks up before Cas can. “I know that I love you.” 

That fucker. Puppy dog eyes and everything. “How dare you, you—you filth!” Castiel spits out, pulling at the handcuffs and wincing at the pain as they bite into his wrists. 

Dean’s eyes are on him now, desperate. “And you? What do you have to say?”

Castiel swallows down his anger and despair and tries to think of something. Asmodeus hasn’t seen him for weeks. A lot has happened in that time—including some mind-blowing sex. He wonders if Asmodeus has any idea what he’s getting into here.

“Check his hip.”

Dean’s eyes flick back to Asmodeus. 

The demon rolls his eyes. Castiel frowns. Does he really look like that when he’s exasperated? Perhaps he should try not to do the full-body eye roll so often, but honestly, with what he has to put up with sometimes…

Asmodeus untucks his white shirt and bares his stomach and hip, showing the Enochian tattoo inscribed into the skin there. “See? It’s really me, Dean. Why don’t you believe me? Come on, let’s go!”

Dean blinked at Asmodeus’ version of Castiel’s skin, then turned to Cas himself, kneeling down beside him. He gently pushes Cas’ coats out of the way, then lifts his shirt, exposing not only the tattoo but also several round bruises marked onto his skin. Dean’s eyes lift to Castiel’s, and he nearly gasps when Dean gives him a ghost of a wink. 

Dean stands again, turning to face Asmodeus. “Okay, I’m not really convinced by either of you. Someone’s just gonna have to blow me.”

Asmodeus blinks at him, then squints. “Sorry, I don’t understand…” 

Dean gives a short laugh. “Yeah, you do a pretty good impression, but you’re not him.” He whirls and gives a strong kick to the upright support post that Cas is attached to. It snaps like a twig, but it takes another kick before it breaks completely, debris from the roof raining down on them. By that time, Asmodeus has realized what’s going on and he blasts Dean across the barn, sending him crashing right through one of the rickety walls.

Castiel pulls at the handcuffs as Asmodeus strides off after Dean, until he can get his hands free from the broken wooden post. He quickly puts his hand in his coat pocket to pull out what he had seen Dean plant there a few moments earlier. It’s a small box—no, it’s the relic box from Aghia Maria! Sam must have given it to Dean at the church. But he can’t use it, can he? It might turn him darkside, or blast them all to pieces. He hears Dean’s shout outside the ruined barn, and realizes this might be their only chance to get rid of Asmodeus and protect Jack. He has to do this, even if it means losing himself. 

He carefully opens the box, revealing its contents—a single nail. Could the power of the divine be contained in something so simple? He knows it can—he can feel it pouring out. He tips the nail into his hand, and draws in the power on a breath. 

The rush is immediate. His consciousness expands until he is every atom in the barn, in the ground beneath it and the air above it. He is surrounded by a warm, white light—it feels like Heaven, but welcoming and pure. His Father’s true face smiles at him, and absolute peace settles in his being. He thanks his Father, then turns his gaze back to Earth—back to his physical body.

He stands in the remains of the barn, his angel blade firmly grasped in his hand, the handcuffs burned away to nothing. Dean cowers on the ground nearby, covering his face with an arm. Asmodeus has reverted back to his “Evil Colonel Sanders” persona, sneering at Castiel.

“Is that all you’ve got, angel? Bring it. I got plenty too.” His eyes glow yellow, and he throws force at Castiel, perhaps aiming to throw him backwards. 

Castiel stands firm. He steps forward. 

A shadow of doubt passes over Asmodeus’ face and he turns to run, but Castiel reaches out a hand and holds him in place with a thought. He raises his blade and flies forward, burying it in Asmodeus’ back as he tries to flee. Fire flares outwards from the blade, consuming Asmodeus as he screams. In seconds, no trace of the demon remains. 

Castiel stumbles slightly, falling to his knees. Through a rushing in his ears, he’s aware of Dean rushing over to him, but he hangs back, hovering. 

Cas looks up at him. “He’s gone. It’s...it’s gone.”

“Cas? How’re you feeling?” Dean sounds terrified, and for good reason, Cas supposes. Dean continues, rambling on to fill up the silence. “When you say, ‘it’, do you mean the god power? Because I gotta say, that was some awesome and also pretty fucking epic shit right there. But if it’s gone, that’s cool too, you know? Because I just want you to be okay. Are you...are you okay, Cas?”

Castiel hears him, but he's struggling to hold coherent thoughts together. “Dean.” Castiel raises a hand and grabs Dean by the front of his shirt, pulling him down to his knees in front of him. He doesn’t say anything else, just pulls Dean in until their lips meet, and Cas pushes white hot grace into him to heal his cuts and bruises. 

Dean gasps and gets back to his feet, rubbing his shoulder. He rips off his jacket and the flannel underneath, pushing up his shirt sleeve to reveal a bright red handprint, back on his shoulder. He looks back to Castiel, confused. 

Castiel's vision is still swimming, overlaid with images he's not sure he's ever seen. Asmodeus as him. Dean in the throes of passion. The tree of life. He can feel his body straining at the edges, struggling to contain his true form. He grits his teeth and tries to focus on the man in front of him. 

“I'm sorry, Dean. But I cannot hold it. This power belongs in Heaven.”

Dean steps back, afraid. “Cas?”

Castiel stands tall, wings outstretched. “I love you,” he whispers, then takes flight, speeding towards Heaven. 


	6. Chapter 6

A light breeze blows across the grassy field as Castiel walks through it. The sun shines down on Dave's Heaven, and Castiel relishes the warmth on his face. In the neighbouring part of the park, Dave flies his kite with a calm serenity that Castiel envies. 

The divine power is easier to hold here. He can feel his grace trying to contain it, yearning to return to his true form, but he can't do that. He doesn't know what would happen to his physical body if he gave it up, and he's fond of it now. It's _him_ , in a way his six-winged thousand-feet-tall celestial entity has never been. 

He squints against the glare—someone is walking towards him. His heart leaps as he realizes it's Hannah. Inside this heaven, she takes the form of the last vessel Cas saw her in—the tall, dark-haired young man. She smiles as she approaches, but keeps her distance. 

“Castiel! You bring heavenly energy to this place. How has this happened?”

“I could ask you the same question! How are you here? I saw you…” he trails off, the memory that day still raw. 

“I was sleeping, but now I'm here. I'm not really sure.”

Castiel throws out his senses, but Hannah is the only angel in this heaven. “Does Dumah know you're here? Are all the angels back?”

Hannah smiles again. “Not all. And yes, she knows—she asked me to come here to find out your intentions in returning.”

Cas takes in the guarded stance, the careful words. They think he's back to take over again—to lead Heaven. “No need for alarm,” he says. “I took in power to destroy Asmodeus, but I cannot contain it, and I don't wish this vessel destroyed. I need to release the energy.”

Hannah nods thoughtfully. “You know if you release it here, you'll return to Earth? Possibly with your grace diminished?”

“Of course. I have responsibilities there, friends that need help and protection.”

Hannah smiles again. “I still don't understand what you see in developing feelings like humans do. But bringing us this power is a great service. I'll plead your case to Dumah and the others for them to accept you home, Castiel.”

Castiel nods, saying, “Thank you, Hannah.”

Hannah moves back and replies, “Go ahead and release it. I'll deliver you back to Earth.”

With one more smile for Hannah, he finally lets go. His head is thrown back, and bright light streams out of him like a rushing river, into the sky and the heavenly aether. 

***

Castiel is lying on something hard. He moves a hand and the ground gives slightly, but there's something hard under his fingers—the iron nail. He closes a fist around it. 

He opens his eyes, tasting grit in his mouth from the dirt he's lying in. He coughs to clear his throat. 

“Cas?” a panicked voice sounds, followed by running steps and suddenly Dean is touching him, rolling him over into his back. A flashlight flickers across his face, and he raises a hand to his forehead, rubbing at pain there without opening his eyes just yet. 

Dean can't hold it in any longer. 

“What the hell happened, man? I'm guessing the Hand of God did the trick, right? ‘Cause one minute the barn was comin’ down and then you're all…” He waves a hand, at a loss for words. “...all glowy eyes and wings like whoa! And Asmo-douche-eus is on fire and you left! Then a few minutes later, bam! You’re back on the ground! Where did you go?”

Cas opens his eyes partway through Dean’s panicky rambling, and sits watching the hunter. A nearly-full moon is high in the sky now, casting a thin light across Dean’s face. As sensation starts to flood back into his body, he realizes he is hurting. His back, mostly. And his head. He takes a breath. 

“Heaven.” And suddenly, all the emotions the divine energy had been suppressing come flooding out like a dam burst. He takes another hitching breath and pulls Dean down to him, pressing his face into Dean’s neck. Dean pats his shoulder awkwardly before putting his arms around him. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

Castiel can’t help the shudders that run through him with the relief of being back with Dean. The sudden loss of the celestial power is a shock to his system, but at least he’s still alive, and he thinks his grace is intact. 

Dean waits until Castiel has stopped shaking before helping him to sit up. “How’re you doing there, buddy? Are you hurt?”

“Actually, I feel pretty good, all things considered.” He finally gets a grip on his grace and sends it throughout his body to heal his bruises. He feels… energised. He sends a silent prayer to thank Hannah for looking after him.

He gets to his feet, stretches out his arms and nearly knocks his hand into the side of the Impala. Hannah had known where Dean would be. Cas smiles.

Dean also gets up, stepping back. He looks wary still, like he's ready for more trouble. 

Castiel looks at him—this wonderful human who chose to be his friend, his lover. How does he deserve such happiness after everything he's done in his life? 

He pulls Dean forward, then spins around and slams him against the side of the car, their hips meeting with force. Dean gives a surprised grunt as Cas captures his mouth with his own, but he soon reaches up to the back of Cas’ neck and holds him there, licking into Cas’ mouth. 

Cas grinds his hips into Dean’s, the pressure building between them. Dean lets out a filthy moan, then pushes Cas back to look into his face, panting slightly. 

“Cas,” he says, gulping down breaths. Cas tries to pull him back in, but Dean puts a hand on his chest to stop him. “Wait. Did you get rid of that God power? Is it gone?”

“Yes, I left it in Heaven. Then I came back to you.” Cas is desperate to get his lips on Dean again, but Dean is obviously still trying to process what happened. It’s frustrating, and Cas surges forward, placing a line of bruising kisses along Dean’s jaw. 

“So it’s done, then. Asmodeus is really gone? And you’re fine?”

Cas just nods, pulling Dean’s shirt down and sucking a mark over his collarbone.

“Fuck, Cas, d’you know what that means? We did it! Jack is safe! At least until Lucifer’s back, but seriously, fuck him.” 

Cas pulls back and stares at Dean for a moment. He’s right. A smile finds its way onto his face in a mirror of Dean’s. 

Dean puts his palm on Cas’ cheek and leans forward to place a kiss on his mouth. He pulls back again and says, “Fuck. Come here.” 

He moves forward, pushing Cas back a step, reaching behind his back to open the back door of the car, all the while pressing kisses to Cas’ mouth. He backs into the car, scooting over to the other side of the wide back seat. 

Cas looks around the farm—there’s no one around, but it’s probably safer to be intimate in an enclosed space than outside in the open, although the idea of fucking Dean where anyone can see is oddly arousing. He files that tidbit away for later, and crawls into the back seat after Dean, who's already shucked his coat and flannel and is making short work of his boots. 

Cas closes the door behind him, shutting off the interior light as well. He shoulders out of his trench coat, then huffs in frustration and whisks his clothes to the aether, followed by Dean's. Cas freezes for a moment as he takes in Dean’s lean body, cock suddenly standing to attention. He can barely make him out in the dim moonlight.

Dean’s eyes rake over Cas in return, back up to his face. He shakes his head helplessly and says, “Do you know how fucking sexy it is when you're all powered up like that?”

Cas just raises one eyebrow and moves over until he's leaning over Dean, between his knees. He places one hand over the faint handprint still lingering on Dean’s shoulder, relishing the heavenly power he feels there. It might be gone by morning, but it’s likely Dean will always carry a trace of it. He leans down and kisses Dean at the same time as he slides his cock against Dean’s, and they rub deliciously against each other. They gasp into each other's mouths, and Dean turns his face to bite Cas’ earlobe gently. Cas grabs Dean in one fist, stroking purposefully. 

“Cas, I need you to fuck me,” Dean gasps into his ear, his voice rough with want.

Castiel gasps at the whispered words. He looks into Dean's darkened eyes and asks, “Are you sure?” He's fairly sure this will be the first time Dean's ever been on the receiving end of anal sex, and he doesn't want him to do anything he'll regret. 

“I'm sure. I need you inside me. Just…take it slow, okay?”

“I won't hurt you,” Cas promises. “We can stop whenever you want.”

Dean nods. “There's lube in the glove compartment. Can you reach?”

Castiel considers racing over the front seat to get to it, but he can sense the bottle's location. He pulls it to him through the aether, and it appears in his hand. 

Dean stares for a moment, then says, “Awesome.”

Cas snorts his amusement and squirts some of the jelly onto his fingers. He hasn't ever done this before, but he had it done to him just night (was that only a day ago?) and surely he can work out the rest. He rubs his fingertips together experimentally. 

He leans back over Dean, slotting their dicks together again and kissing him deeply. He knows Dean's body intimately now, has healed him time and again, but he still hesitates as he runs his fingers over Dean's anus. Dean tenses, and Cas stops, thinking Dean will change his mind. But instead, he whispers, “Don't stop,” between kisses. 

Castiel breaches the hole and slides a finger in and out experimentally, and it doesn't take long before Dean is writhing around on the vinyl seat and pushing himself down on the three fingers Cas is shoving into him. Cas himself is rock hard and desperate to get a little more friction than what he's getting from the occasional brush of his arm or Dean's cock, and he pulls out his fingers. He slicks himself up while Dean catches his breath, eyes ravenous as he watches Cas. 

Cas shuffles forward on the seat, lining himself up. He looks up to check Dean’s still willing and is caught by an awestruck, loving look in Dean’s eyes. Dean puts a hand on each of Cas’ hips, and guides him forward so that Cas is pushing into him with a slow, sweet drag. They both gasp, and Cas sends a jolt of grace through Dean to ease the sting. As their lips meet again, a delicious warmth meets his grace, and Cas knows his grace is bonding with Dean’s soul again. He can’t help it, any more than he can stop his deep admiration, and gratitude that Dean returns his feelings. 

He draws out and pushes back in again, and the heat and tightness of being inside Dean is overwhelming. As Cas’ rhythm picks up, he’s aware of the car rocking, squeaking a little, but it soon fades into the background and he's overcome by a feeling of being cocooned in Dean’s safe space—in his heart. Dean cries out, “Cas!” and as he hitches up his hips a little to change the angle, Cas drives in harder, the bright waves of golden light from Dean’s soul creating starbursts in the air around them.

Pleasure crashes through him and he moans, grabbing the front seat for leverage. Dean throws back his head and gasps Cas’ name again. Cas grabs Dean’s cock with his already slippery right hand, pumping it in time with his own thrusts until Dean shoots all over his stomach with a wordless cry. Cas follows shortly after, his rhythm becoming erratic before he finally drives in hard, collapsing onto Dean’s chest, panting. 

When he opens his eyes again, he sees a hazy light coming from somewhere above him. He blinks and sees that it’s a tree, golden branches glowing in a darkened space. He tries to lift his head but it’s heavy—he barely manages an inch. His clothes are back on, but someone has hiked up his coat to expose his lower back, and a sharp pain on one side makes him flinch weakly and close his eyes again.

He lifts his head properly this time to look at Dean, leaning back against the corner of the back seat and the door of the car. Dean runs a hand down Cas’ back, over a tender spot on his side. “Sorry, man. I’ve dug in the nails there a bit.”

He’d just had another vision, hadn’t he? Perhaps he should go and see about therapy, as Sam suggested. He shakes his head, putting the image of the tree out of his mind. “I don’t mind marks, remember?” Cas admits, smiling. Dean trails his fingers down Cas’ spine again, and it’s so soothing, he thinks he might sleep if he was human. 

They breathe gently together for a few moments, until Dean yawns. “That was awesome. We’re definitely doing that again, and soon.”

Castiel hums his agreement, and Dean continues, “I guess we should get cleaned up and back to the motel, though. Break the good news to the kids.”

Castiel reluctantly agrees, and retrieves their clothes after cleaning up the mess. 

The drive back to motel is quiet but happy. Dean holds Cas’ hand or rests his on Cas’ thigh, and Cas mostly looks out of the window into the night and tries not to remember how good it had briefly felt to hold all that divine energy. 

His visit to Heaven had been strange and wonderful, though. Seeing Hannah again was a blessing, and he wonders how many other angels have returned with her. Castiel feels a sharp ache in his chest at the thought that one day he might be accepted there again, but will he ever be willing to take that offer? Certainly not for a long time. There are places on Earth that feel more like home to him now than Heaven ever has.

He turns to look at the man beside him, and smiles. Wherever Dean is—that's home. 

Dean glances at him, then back to the road. “What?” he asks, grinning. 

Cas turns back to the road as well. “Oh, nothing. Just counting my blessings.”

“Uh huh.” Dean sounds curious, but he doesn't comment further. 

“Dean, did you ever consider slowing down with hunting?”

Dean glances at Cas again. “Not really. I mean there's always something to gank out there, isn't there? Lately it's been one big bad after another, granted. But…I don't think it's in me just to…stop. Tried it once, didn't stick.”

Cas winces—he didn't mean to invoke Lisa's memory. That's a part of both of their lives he'd rather forget. 

“No, I meant taking on less cases. We could let other hunters take care of them, find a house above ground.”

Dean is quiet for a few moments, then he says, “I always hoped we could go for a holiday to a beach somewhere—you, me, and Sam. And I guess Jack now, too, if he wants to come. It's been a long while since we've been able to let go, you know?”

Cas nods, thinking of the never ending drama of the last few years—Metatron, Abbadon, Amara, Lucifer, Asmodeus, Michael. 

Dean looks over at him again, speaking gently. “Maybe after this Michael crap is done. We've still gotta be on our guard, man. He knows about Jack, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't know that I'm his vessel but if he managed to find out—”

“That's not going to happen,” Cas interrupts, shaking his head. The idea of Michael blackmailing Dean into saying yes again fills him with horror, especially after everything they had gone through the first time. 

“But what if he does? What if he—”

“Promise me. Dean, promise me that if something happens and Michael tries to get to you, you won't agree.”

Dean looks at Cas for a moment like he thinks he's gone crazy. 

“I'm perfectly serious. I know Michael—I know how his manipulative mind works, and I doubt _this_ Michael is different. Please, Dean, for me.”

Dean throws up his hands. “Okay, okay!” He grips the wheel again. “I promise. There's no way I would do that though, okay? Not gonna happen.” Dean reaches over and grips Cas’ hand tightly. 

Castiel nods, then looks out the window at the approaching dawn, worry still sitting heavy in his gut. 

***

The motel is as shabby as their usual style, and Sam hands Dean a key as he and Cas walk into the room. 

Dean looks down at the key. “This is the key for this room.”

“Yeah, they only had one available, and this was the third place we checked. I'm glad we left Sacha behind with Bobby—none of these places allow pets.”

Cas is glad they hadn't brought the dog as well. It kept staring at him in an unsettling way. 

“So, we're in the family room? Great,” Dean says, sounding mildly disappointed. 

“Yeah. Just, please…no funny business?” Sam pleads. 

Dean eyes Cas up and down. “I dunno, Sammy, how am I supposed to keep my hands off him?”

Cas leans into Dean and gives him a sloppy kiss, performing for Sam's benefit.

“Yeah, that.” Sam gives his best little-brother bitchface as he turns back to sit down at the small table on front of his laptop. 

Dean grins as he lets go of Cas and crosses to the bar fridge, retrieving a beer. Cas moves to sit with Sam at the table. 

Jack is sitting back on one of the beds, watching a cartoon. He smiles at Dean as he joins him. 

Dean smiles over at Cas. “So, you wanna tell ‘em?”

Jack looks between them curiously. “Tell us what?”

Cas is having trouble containing his excitement, but he decides to go for dramatic flair. “That farm wasn't a werewolf den. There were demons.”

Sam's ears perk up like a bloodhound. “Demons? _Asmodeus_?! Why didn't you call me?”

“Hey, hey, we're here now, aren't we? We didn't get a chance! They jumped us, then Asmo-douchbag shows up looking just like Cas!” Dean still looks haunted by that particular memory. 

Jack is staring wide-eyed at Dean. “There were two of them?” When Dean nodded, Jack continued, “How'd you know which one was the real Castiel? How'd you get away?”

Dean turns to look at Cas, inviting him to continue. Cas grins ruefully, rubbing at his hip. The bruises are gone now—he’d healed them after his trip to Heaven—but the memory of how he got them is still fresh. 

“Dean knows me pretty well. He gave me the Hand of God that we found in the church.” They had dropped the now-powerless nail back there on their way back through town, sans warding-box. He takes a deep breath and continues, “I took in the power and smited Asmodeus.”

Sam blinks. “You…you _smited_ him? He's dead?”

“Sammy, it was so fucking badass, you should have seen it. This barn comes crashing down and Cas is all glowing and his wings were enormous and he just mowed that asshole down. It was fucking incredible!”

“Dean,” Cas admonishes, embarrassed. He looks down, his face warming to hear Dean speak about him in such a way.

Sam says, wary now, “And the divine power? From the Hand of God?” 

“Gone,” Castiel replies, looking up at him. “Back in Heaven.”

Sam blinks. “You went there?” When Cas nods, he continues, “And they let you leave again?”

“Yes.” He isn’t sure whether he should reveal that some angels are back in Heaven, but keeping secrets has never turned out well for them. “Hannah...was there. She helped me to release the energy and return to Earth.”

Dean looks confused. Cas hasn’t told him this part. “Hannah? But isn’t she…”

“Dead? Yes, but it seems she and some of the other angels have returned. Perhaps the Empty spat out more than just me.”

Cas had turned his eyes to Sam while speaking, but now when he looks back at Dean, he looks sad. “I guess that means you’ll be heading back up there.”

Castiel’s heart clenches painfully. Dean thought he would leave? “No, no, Dean. I’m staying here with you. I’m done with them.” 

He smiles at the relief that passes over Dean’s face. “Good. That’s good.” He hides his relief behind his beer bottle.

Jack grins and pipes up. “I'm so glad that evil fucking asshole is dead!”

Dean spits out a spray of beer, while Sam looks scandalised. Castiel can't help but grin. 

Sam goes into his parent mode in an instant. “Uh, Jack? Probably, heh, um, better if you don't use that word in front of other people, okay? It's not polite.”

Jack looks chastised. “You mean ‘asshole’?”

Dean covers his laugh with a cough, pretending to clear his throat as he cleans up the beer on his shirt. 

Sam tries again, valiantly. “No, the...uh, the other one.”

Jack squints in confusion. “What, ‘evil’?”

Sam gapes at him for a moment before Jack apparently can't hold it in and cracks up laughing.

The young half-angel is teasing Sam—Castiel couldn't be prouder. 

He grins as Dean leans over and messes up Jack's hair, laughing the loudest. “You're really a Winchester now, kid!”

Sam gives them all the number 5 bitchface and stomps over to get another beer. 

Once the cartoon finishes, Dean heads off for a shower and Sam climbs into one of the beds. Castiel and Jack move to the table, speaking quietly while Sam falls asleep.

“With Asmodeus gone, you’re safe. At least for now,” Castiel says. “Lucifer and Michael are still out there, of course, and we’ll need to prepare for them. But we’ll take them on together, okay?”

“Yes. I’m getting stronger all the time, and I have better control, too. I’m sure I can take Michael down when he comes.” Jack looks fierce, and Cas grins. 

“We’ll see,” he says, then looks up as Dean comes out of the bathroom wearing his soft sleeping clothes. 

Dean smiles at him, a real, open smile, and Castiel’s heart soars. “Come lie with me?” he asks, throwing a thumb over his shoulder at the other bed. 

Cas turns to Jack. “Will you be okay?” 

“Sure, I’ve got the laptop. I’ll try to sleep later, too.” He opens the computer and plugs in a set of earphones that were in the laptop bag.

Dean pulls back the sheets and lies down, holding the covers up for Cas. He removes his trench coat, jacket and shoes, then slides in behind Dean, curving into the warmth of his back and throwing his arm over him.

“G’night, angel,” Dean murmurs. 

“Goodnight, Dean.” Cas presses a kiss to the skin behind Dean’s ear, and Dean sighs—one of the most content sounds Cas has ever heard him make. He smiles, content himself.

_***_

_“Cas? I hope you’re hearing this.”_

Castiel sits up straight in bed, trying to shake himself out of the doze he was in. He looks down at Dean’s sleeping form as he hears it again, clear as a bell: _“Cas, we could really use a hand here, if you’re back stateside. We’re in LA, after a saint’s blood. We’re kinda heading into danger, so…”_

The prayer rings in his ears. Is Dean dreaming? 

Dean’s breathing hitches slightly as he rolls over, blinking up at Cas in the dim pre-dawn light filtering through the window. “Whassup?” he mumbles, pulling at Cas’ arm. “Come back.”

Cas stares down at him in confusion as the prayer comes again. _“If you can get here before tomorrow, sweet. If not, I hope you’re okay. I… I miss you, man.”_

Cas scrambles off the bed, backing away from it. His vision is blurring again, and he can’t seem to catch his breath properly. He cries out as a sharp pain stabs through his head, and he doubles up in agony. He dimly hears Dean calling his name, “Cas? Cas, come on! It’s fine, I’m here. Just breathe…”

A bright light is shining in his eyes, and as he looks around, he sees the castle ruins. He blinks, bringing one hand up to shield it from the hot sunlight. _How… how many days…?_ He squints at his arm, covered in red welts. Round, bruised marks that look almost like bites…

The motel room swims back into focus and Sam is up now as well, calling to him. “Cas, whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real. Come back to us! This is real, we are real!” He can see Jack’s terrified face in the background, but it blurs.

Dean puts a hand on his face. Castiel is dimly aware that Dean’s face is wet—there are tears spilling over, running down his cheek. “Cas? Don’t do this. I need you, man. I love you. Stay with me, please.” 

A tight clenching of his chest brings the motel room fully into focus for a moment. Castiel puts a hand out to Dean’s shoulder to steady himself. His fingers feel nothing—Dean’s not really there. Cas looks up to meet Dean’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and throws himself out of the dream.


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel rolls over onto his stomach, hacking a dry cough into the rough pile of blankets he’s lying on. He looks around blearily—Sacha is lying nearby, looking as dazed as he is. 

A rough growl tears out of his throat and he crawls over to her, grabbing her around the throat. “How long, djinni?”

Sacha blinks at him in surprise, choking out, “Wh- what? I... honored the deal...”

Castiel shakes her slightly, making her gag and struggle for air. He’s dimly aware of other djinn around, watching, but they don’t come closer. “That was more than one day...” he bites out.

Sasha’s surprised face changes to a smirk and she pushes him away without difficulty. “You seemed content in there. And I was certainly content out here, seraph.” She stretches languidly, licking her lips. “I have to thank you for a glorious ride, though. Who knew you were bottling so much up inside?”

Castiel gathers his remaining strength and pushes himself to sit almost upright, glaring at Sacha. He grimaces as he reaches for his grace. He’s so, so tired, but adrenaline and anger are keeping him going.

“I’m going to put you back under now. Send you back to spend your days with your precious hunter—won’t that be nice? Hold still, now.”

She leans back towards him, reaching out a hand, blue light swirling around it, but Castiel flinches to the side. He lurches forward, ducking around her grasp, then manifests his blade and punches it through her throat.

She screeches around the blood pouring from her mouth, reaching for his face with claws extended, but he manages to hold her off, yanking back the blade and angling it upward to drive into her brain. Blue light flashes in her eyes and she slumps down, lifeless. 

Castiel retrieves the blade with a grimace, then pushes himself to his feet, eyeing the djinn around him. He grips his bloody blade tightly—he might have failed horribly in his mission, but he won't go down without a fight. 

After a few minutes, one djinni calmly steps forward. She is dressed in white with her long, light brown hair loose, and she keeps her distance, standing near the tree and speaking across the courtyard. He sees her swallow nervously before she speaks.

“Seraph, I’d like to apologise for Sacha’s actions—she dishonored your agreement and lost herself.”

Castiel nods, holding in a cutting remark about her understatement.

The djinni continues, “You’ve proven yourself a formidable opponent and gifted warrior. Would you consider remaining with us, by my side?”

Castiel stares at her, not having the energy to be as hysterical as he feels. He’s not sure how the djinn’s social system works—whether the position of queen is passed down a bloodline or by some kind of pecking order, but he assumes this is their new leader. Now that he thinks about it, he’s never seen so many of them living together like this. 

He musters words. “No. No, please, just give me the fruit and let me leave in peace.” 

The djinni nods. As she fetches fruit from the ground near the tree, Castiel stares up at it in wonder. Even in bright sunlight, an ethereal glow surrounds each leaf. The sense of deep, ancient magic is heavy in this place—even in his weakened state Castiel can feel currents of energy reaching deep into the Earth. He plants his bare feet in the dirt of the ruined courtyard, wishing he could tap into it, but that divine energy is not for the likes of him.

He stares down at his arm, covered in welts ringed with tooth marks. The bites are all over him, and his skin aches and itches. He can’t muster the grace to heal himself, and his head spins when he tries, so he just closes his eyes and tries to hold the fractured pieces of himself together. He’s so very weary. 

The djinn returns with a small bag containing several of the round fruits. While on the tree, they glow faintly with a golden sheen, but detached they have faded to a glossy purple. Hopefully they’ll keep their potency until he gets back to Kansas. 

The djinni says, quietly, “If you ever change your mind, we are indebted to you, Castiel.”

He nods, trying hard not to shudder. He accepts the fruit and stumbles away from the courtyard holding the tree of life, clutching his boots and trench coat in his arms. The djinn watch him go but don’t try to stop him, which is just as well because he’s in no condition to fight. He stumbles over a fallen stone block and reflexively tries to spread his wings to regain his balance, but ends up falling hard on his shoulder when his wings fail to materialise. They’re gone. They were never back. 

He pushes himself up to his knees again and swipes a hand across his face, his hand coming away wet. He’s filled with anger, furious at the djinni queen for taking his desires and twisted them into a perfect life, and even more furious at himself for falling for it—he would have happily stayed in that world where he was loved, cherished, valued even. His chest clenches painfully as he thought of the Dean he had left behind—calm, hopeful. _His._

No. He can mourn later. The djinn have let him go easily enough but they might change their minds if he appears weak. He needs to get out of there. He pushes himself onto his feet and stumbles out of the ruins, his throat burning with unshed tears.

***

On the other side of the city, Castiel finds a ruined building that seems sound enough to hole up in. He feels wretched, his grace still too depleted to heal himself of the bites and other scratches covering him. Every now and then he wipes tears from his face, mourning the life he'd left behind.

He falls asleep trying to remind himself that the dream had been just that, a fantasy and a lie. Even so, he can't help feeling the absence of Dean's body resting beside him, his own head resting on Dean’s chest, Dean's arms around him. 

An airplane flying low overhead wakes him suddenly, followed by a shaking in the ground as an explosion rocks the city. They're bombing it again? _There's nothing left to destroy_ , Castiel thinks, anguish making him choke as he dashes from the ruins. At least his grace has recovered enough to heal the bite wounds, which makes him feel a little better physically, at least. 

He travels faster after that, avoiding the tent camps and farming villages in favour of getting back to Amman as quickly as he can. 

It's not until he gets into the city that he's actually able to find out what day it is. Seven days. Seven days had passed while he was in the dream, slowly losing his blood and grace to the djinni queen. 

He's missed his return flight by a couple of days, but thankfully his wallet, phone, and charge cable are still in his pocket, and he finds a place at the airport to charge the phone. 

Dean picks up on the second ring. “Cas? Are you back in the States? Need a ride?”

Cas nearly drops the phone when he hears Dean's voice. His throat aches as he reins in the emotion and sticks to the facts. 

“Hello, Dean. I'm still in Jordan—I ran into some trouble and missed my flight home.”

“Trouble? What kinda trouble? You okay?”

Cas can't help but smile at his friend's concern. “Dean, I'm fine. I just need to get home.”

“Oh, good,” Dean says with obvious relief. “Well, that credit card we got you should be good for another couple grand I'd say. Jeez, I miss your wings sometimes.”

Cas is speechless for a few moments, the words striking him like a blow to the chest. “I do too,” he mutters eventually. 

“‘m sorry, man, that was a shitty thing to say. Just…hurry home, okay? We’ve got the blood, by the way. How’d you go with the tree of life?”

Where to even begin? “I...I got the fruit. I’ll tell you about it when I get there. Just let me get on a plane for now.”

“Okay. Fly safe, Cas.”

 _I love you too_ … “Bye, Dean.”

Castiel hangs up, feeling raw. How was he going to share a space with Dean again after all this? The whole dream had been fed by his deep subconscious. None of it was actually real, no matter how hard he wished it might come to pass.

But he knew...now he knew how wonderful it could be, being with Dean. The Dean in his dream had probably been a little less inhibited, now that he thinks about it. But perhaps, just perhaps, he could try to bring that Dean to the surface. Test the waters to see if it was real, or just his own subconscious wish.

With a small, renewed sense of hope, Cas heads for the airline desk, keen to get moving.

***

Castiel walks down the concrete stairs to the top door of the bunker, digging in his coat pocket for the keys. As he puts the key to the lock he stops, disoriented for a moment. He looks around, then hefts the bag of fruit from the tree of life under his arm, reminding himself that he's really here—he's home. 

He opens the door and steps inside, breathing the familiar, musty air. No sounds coming from the kitchen this time. He walks down the stairs, once again marvelling at how perfectly the djinn venom had constructed the dream from his subconscious. 

“Sam? Dean? I’m back from Syria with fruit from the tree of life!” 

_Where are they?_ The lights are all on, it’s unlike Sam to leave without shutting the lights off.

He calls out as he checks the kitchen and the library. “The tree was guarded by a pack of djinn. I killed most of them, bargained with the rest.” He pauses, remembering something that unsettles him. “I think I’m… technically married to their queen, now.”

Still no answer. He checked the living quarters, then heard some noises coming from the room at the end of the hall. Cas knew that Dean had earmarked this room some time ago to be his “Dean-cave”. It sounds like a TV is on in there. “Hello?” 

Is that… Sam’s voice? “Sam?” 

As he enters the room he notices that there is a TV on, but the room is otherwise empty. He looks around at the chairs and random other paraphernalia in the room and wonders how Dean had talked Sam into helping him get all this stuff into the bunker. The TV is playing a cartoon, but one of the characters sounds a lot like… 

“Dean?” he asks, staring at the animated versions of the Winchesters. Odd purple sparks start bursting from the TV, and as Cas squints at it, unsure what to make of any of it, a purple burst of light blasts out of the TV and surrounds him. 

***

Castiel stalks off along the road, past the police cars with their flashing lights. He has to get away from Dean when he's like this, even though his Scooby-Doo impression was kind of endearing. 

He's just spent the last day as a cartoon, which was its own level of irritating, but then to have to watch Dean flirt relentlessly with first Daphne, then Fred—it was cruel and unfair…and Dean has no idea. 

Now he's wearing an ascot, of all things, and Cas has come close to shouting aloud for Sacha, convinced he's still in the dream. But no, this is real, and Cas isn't sure how much more he can bear. 

“Hey, Cas, wait up!”

Castiel stops, rolling his eyes as he waits for Dean to join him. The flashing lights create odd red and blue shadows on Dean's face as he approaches, and Castiel's chest aches again at how he's no longer allowed to touch. 

Dean is wary, hesitant. “You okay, Cas? Is something wrong?”

_Everything. Everything is wrong._

He takes a breath, trying to decide how to put his frustration into words. 

“I got back from an extremely long and confined plane flight following a traumatic experience in a warzone only to be thrown into a fictional cartoon universe with a talking dog. No, I'm not okay.”

At least the talking dog had been worth meeting, out of the whole ridiculous day. 

Dean holds up his hands. “Jeez, okay, sorry. But I just lived out a childhood fantasy, so sorry if I'm too cheerful for you, Doctor Gloom.”

Cas opens his mouth to retaliate, but stops himself. Right. The childhood fantasy. He pushes past Dean before he says anything he'll regret, heading back towards the Impala. He's done with this. He decides that when they get back to the bunker, he's going to head out to find somewhere a long way from humans. 

The ride back to Lebanon is awkward at first, but Sam insists they stop at a gas station outside of town to pick up a few things, no doubt annoyed at the tension in the car. 

Rather than sit around, alone in the back seat with sweet memories turned bitter, Cas gets out and stands, leaning back on the closed door. The night is cool and still, the stars partially obscured by clouds. Cas breathes deeply even though he doesn’t need to, to try to keep inside the scream that’s threatening to escape.

Dean wanders out from the minimart, a shopping bag in his hand. He throws it into the the open window and turns around to lean next to Cas. 

_The press of Dean's body against this car door, sweet kisses and words_ … Cas closes his eyes, worried he might explode if Dean touches him. 

“Sam's chatting up the cashier in there. Kid can't keep it in his pants, sometimes.” He chuckles. 

Castiel is trying hard not to move, in case he slips and kisses Dean on the lips. It could happen. Any moment. 

Dean continues, “I'm sorry about earlier, man. That was out of line. You've been through some shit. You wanna tell me about it?”

Now Cas turns to look at him, his heart aching. Could he tell him? He's not embarrassed by it—he can explain it all away as a dream, but Dean probably won’t want to know about it. 

He sighs. Dean's standing there, looking sorry and gorgeous, and Cas has to tell him something. 

“I found the tree of life near Damascus, in a ruined castle. There were… djinn. I made a deal with their queen—the fruit for…for a taste.”

“A taste of what?” Dean asks, baffled. 

“Of _me_ ,” he snaps, then continues before the horrified look on Dean's face can turn into a lecture. “Yes, I know it was a stupid idea, but they surrounded and overwhelmed me. I had no other option. She held me under for seven days, then I managed to get away and make it back to Jordan.”

Dean stays quiet, probably unsure what to say.

Cas looks up at the stars, noticing a meteor streaking across the midnight sky. _Make a wish…_

Dean asks quietly, “Did you dream?”

Cas’ blood is buzzing. The dream is fading now, details getting hazy around the edges. But perhaps he can recapture it. It's worth a try, isn't it? 

He looks back to Dean and says, “Yes, I did.” He reaches out a hand, and takes one of Dean’s, lacing their fingers together. 

Dean’s eyes widen in surprise, then his face lights up with a smile that sends warmth down to Cas’ toes. 

Maybe wishes can come true after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was going to end this story here. You can thank my betas for what comes next... :)


	8. Epilogue

Castiel looks around, a little overwhelmed by the number of people crowding into the bunker. Their mission to the Apocalypse World had been successful if they didn’t include the part where Gabriel hadn’t made it back through or that Lucifer and Michael were still at large. At least they’d managed to take down Asmodeus for real, although Cas secretly believes his dream demise was more spectacular, and certainly more satisfying. 

Now all of Bobby’s hunters from the other world have crowded through into the bunker, and had promptly set up a party. He doubts if there has ever been so many people in here at one time, and they’re all talking, drinking and generally getting in each other’s spaces. He turns away to escape an odd claustrophobic feeling, only to see a similar panicked expression in Dean’s eyes, just behind him. 

“There you are,” he says. “C’mon.” He grabs Cas’ arm and pulls him towards the door to the living quarters. 

“Dean? Hold up, boy, I'm makin’ a speech.” Bobby pushed past them, heading for the war room. 

Dean sighs and lets go of Cas’ arm, moving instead to the sideboard and pouring a glass of whiskey. “You want one?” he asks Cas, gesturing with the bottle. Cas shakes his head. He’d been so disappointed when he’d discovered that food and drink had had lost their taste again. 

They walk over to stand by the library stairs, looking over the group of ragged apocalypse-world hunters. Cas sees Jack sitting alone on one side of the room, looking despondent. He’s been upset ever since Dean and Sam came through the portal without Lucifer or Gabriel, when he’d realized he’d missed the whole fight with Michael. Cas almost goes down to him, but he’s been trying to talk to the nephilim for hours now. He’ll give him a bit longer.

Dean releases a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry about what happened to Gabriel, Cas. Michael jumped us at the last second.” He barely glances up as Sam comes up the stairs to join them. He continues, “Shitty way to go—Gabe had been on the run for so long. He sacrificed himself. He’s the reason Sam and I got out… we owe him everything.”

Sam nods thoughtfully when he catches the end of the conversation.

Cas nods as well, not really sure what to say. They'd really only just got used to having Gabriel back, and now he's gone again. Cas won't be surprised if he somehow managed to fake his own death again, so he suppresses his grief and focuses on the remaining threats. He asks, “And what about Lucifer?”

“Sam handled it.” Dean raises his glass to his lips.

Cas glances at Sam, who just shrugs at him. A cool dread creeps through Cas, but before he can ask Sam about what happened before he came through the portal, Bobby’s voice sounds from the War Room.

“All right, listen up. We made it. Don’t know much about this place, but it’s a place without Michael, so that’s a turn for the better. I don’t want none of you goin’ soft on me because we are gonna get ourselves ready, and go back home and set our people free.”

The crowd cheers, raising their glasses. These people have been through so much, but most of them seem determined to return to their world and take it back.

“Been here for five minutes and he’s already taking over the joint,” Dean remarks. Sam snorts out a laugh.

“While we’re celebrating, let’s not forget our brothers and sisters who didn’t make it. They will never be forgotten, and we will do right by them.”

More cheering from the crowd, and Bobby smiles grimly.

“And now, a toast to our new brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester. Thanks, boys. Welcome to the family.”

Sam and Dean nod, accepting the praise a little awkwardly. Cas smiles, pleased to see the brothers getting the recognition they deserve after all they’ve been through in the last few months.

Bobby speaks up again. “Now let’s rest up, regroup and enjoy what this world’s got to offer. If any of you decide you’d rather stay here, I can’t stop you. But if you’re keen to take back what’s ours, stay in touch. I’ll be callin’ on you sooner or later. Be ready.” He steps down from the table amid more hoots and hollers. Everyone goes back to their drinks and their conversations. 

Sam gives Cas an apologetic look. “I guess they’re still not used to considering angels as good guys. Thanks for your part in this, Cas.” Warmth floods Cas’ face as Sam raises his glass to him, then takes a drink. 

“Thank you. But it’s really Gabriel who we should be drinking to.”

Sam’s smile falls, and he nods, raising his glass again. “Gabriel.”

Dean nods, then throws back the rest of his drink. “Let’s get outta here.”

As Dean brushes past him, grabbing his sleeve again, Cas looks back to Sam, whose smile returns briefly with a wink before he turns to talk to Ketch.

Cas follows Dean out of the room, then into Dean’s room. Dean pulls Cas inside then shuts the door behind him, locking it, then leaning his own back against it. His head hits the wood with a dull thunk as he closes his eyes. Cas stands and watches him, curious.

Dean lets out a breath. “Sorry, dude. I just had to get out of there. Not used to having all these people in the bunker.”

“I understand. It’s...overwhelming.” Cas moves closer to him, reaching out to take one of his hands. He rubs a thumb over Dean’s hand in what he hopes is a calming gesture, and releases a small burst of grace into him to heal the bruises he can feel Dean sustained in the flight back to the rift. 

Dean opens his eyes, fixing Cas with an intense gaze. Cas catches his breath at the sudden hunger he sees there, and he pulls Dean's hand up above his head, pinning him to the door as he leans forward and presses their mouths together. Dean makes a surprised sound, then his free hand is on the back of Cas’ neck, pulling him closer. 

The non-taste of the whiskey molecules on Dean's tongue abruptly reminds Cas that he is no longer in the dream, and he pulls back suddenly. Since that night after the Scooby Doo incident they haven't really had much chance to be intimate, what with trying to find Gabriel and the back-and-forth with Apocalypse world—barely a handful of nights spent together, fumbling hands and a lot of making out. He’s told Dean some of what happened in his dream, but not in detail. Despite that, Cas still isn't sure if Dean is completely on board, and Sam hasn't said anything, even though it seems he already knows. 

Dean stares at Cas, trying to catch his breath. “What?” he asks, a flicker of worry passing over his face. 

Cas knows the Dean of his dream had seemed to be lacking the self-doubt, the crippling insecurity that the real Dean struggles with, and while he wants more than anything to assure him that he's loved, he also doesn't want to move too fast. 

“Are you okay with this?” he asks Dean, letting go of his hand and cupping Dean's face with his palm. 

In answer, Dean pulls him in by the back of the neck and bites him on the bottom lip. He smooths his tongue over the bite and grins against Cas’ lips. 

“‘M just fine, Angel,” he murmurs, and Cas rumbles out a groan, pressing him back into the door and deepening the kiss. He pushes his hips into Dean, moaning again when he feels the hard line of Dean’s erection in his jeans. Dean breaks away from the kiss to gulp in a breath, and Cas places a line of heated kisses down his jaw. Dean slides his hands inside Cas’ coats, dragging his nails over the soft fabric of his shirt, then moves them higher to push Cas’ trench coat and jacket off his shoulders. Cas shrugs them off and lets them fall, still sucking marks into Dean’s neck. Dean is making soft moans himself now, as he shucks his own jacket and starts working on Cas’ shirt buttons. “Too...many layers…” he gasps.

Castiel chuckles, but pulls back to finish unbuttoning his own shirt and allowing Dean space to quickly undress as well. Dean leaves his blue boxer briefs on, so Cas follows suit. 

They face each other for barely a moment before Dean reaches out to gently pull Cas back in for a soft kiss. 

“Did you do this with dream-me as well?” he murmurs.

“Well, yes. But I don’t want to do anything if…I don’t want to push you…”

“Cas, it’s fine. I want this. I just don’t...want to disappoint you, after whatever happened in your dream. Some other me got to have all the fun and I wasn’t even there...” Dean looks away.

Again with the insecurity. Castiel cups his cheek and turns Dean’s face to make eye contact. “Hey, we may disagree now and then, but Dean? You will never be a disappointment to me. What happened in the dream doesn’t matter. It’s the real you that I love.”

The look of awe on Dean’s face is enough to make Cas’ throat tighten with the intensity of emotion, but Dean leans in and kisses him softly. He moves his mouth to Cas’ ear to say in a low voice, “Love you too, Cas.” Then their bodies are close enough to touch each other, skin to skin, and Cas is lost in the sensation—the real sensation—of being able to touch Dean again. Dean pushes him a few steps backward as he kisses the soft skin under Cas’ ear, until the back of Cas’ knees hit the bed and he sits down abruptly. 

Dean pushes him onto his back and climbs over him, capturing his mouth again. Cas lets him lead with lazy kisses, Dean’s hands roaming over the planes of Cas’ chest. He feels like he might burn up from the trails of fire Dean’s fingers are leaving on his skin.

He might not be able to fly anymore, but his angel strength is still available to him. Abruptly impatient, he grabs Dean around the torso and flips him onto his back, landing over him on his outstretched hands on either side. He leans down, sucking a mark onto Dean’s collarbone as Dean breathes, “Cas…” He continues kissing and tasting, moving downwards until he meets Dean’s erection straining to escape his boxers. 

He looks up, meeting Dean’s lust-blown eyes. He’s breathing hard, his face flushed. Castiel stills for a moment, one hand on Dean’s thigh, the other fingering his waistband. “May I?” he asks, his voice coming out low and rough. 

Dean eyes Cas with a sultry look, biting his lip. Castiel forces himself to wait until Dean nods his consent before he slowly pulls down the boxers, pressing kisses to the revealed skin. He pulls the fabric down further and Dean's cock springs free, hard and flushed. 

Cas takes him in hand and starts to pump loosely, making Dean gasp and arch his back. He lets out a low moan, watching Cas with a strange look—half-hungry, but also half-terrified. Cas knows that Dean’s been struggling with his identity, with accepting the fact that he’s attracted to men as well as women. He knows there’s probably going to be a slow learning curve while he works things through, but Cas isn’t intending to go anywhere, and Dean is nothing if not stubborn. It’s time to push a little further out of the comfort zone.

Cas grips Dean’s cock tightly around the base, and slowly licks a long stripe up to the tip. He stops there, assessing Dean’s state. “Is this okay?” he asks, licking his lips. 

Dean’s eyes follow the movement. “Yes,” he whispers, and Cas dives back in, licking the sensitive spot under his head and sucking lightly on the soft flesh there. He swallows his whole length down and Dean cries out as he hits the back of Cas’ throat. 

Cas bobs up and down a few more times, keeping a steady rhythm. He’s lost in the glide of the hard flesh under his tongue when he’s startled by the gentle feeling of Dean’s fingers tangling in his hair. The fingers tighten, and sparks shoot down Cas’ spine at the slight pain. He releases a moan around his mouthful, and continues his rhythm, moving his free hand to gently touch the soft skin behind Dean’s balls, making Dean growl out Cas’ name. He shifts his fingers downwards until he’s stroking over his hole, and suddenly Dean clenches and convulses hard, coming down Cas’ throat with a shout. 

Cas swallows it down, barely tasting the molecular structure. He sits up, resting back on his heels, not sure how Dean will deal with their first sexual encounter—the first real one, anyway. 

Dean’s breathing slows and he opens one eye, looking up at Cas. “Come ‘ere,” he says, gesturing with an arm. As Cas flops down beside him, Dean pulls him under his arm and kisses him deeply. “That was incredible, Cas,” he says after pulling back a little. “Where’d you learn to suck cock like that, anyway?”

“The, uh, pizza man?” Cas tried, turning up one side of a smile. 

Dean choked out a laugh. “You did not learn that from the pizza man.” He sighs, pressing another kiss to Cas’ forehead this time. “I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to get into this. I just...I want this...I want this with you, I’m just—”

And, there’s the freak out that Cas expects. He despairs of ever understanding the hang-ups around the social structures of humans. He tries to make himself sound gentle and keep the sarcasm to a minimum when he says, “You’re hesitant to have sex with another man. I understand.” Cas pauses. “I might be able to locate a female vessel if that would make it—”

“No! No.” Dean looks horrified at the suggestion. “No, it wouldn’t matter anyway, but you... wouldn’t be… _Anyway_.” He rubs his free hand down his face, blowing a breath out in frustration. “Just give me time, all right? You’re not going anywhere, right? You’re gonna stay?”

Castiel places a kiss to Dean’s jaw and lets his grace overflow along with his joy, soothing Dean’s worry. “I’m not going anywhere. Take all the time that you need, Dean. No matter what comes, we’ll face it together.”

The dream is fading further into the past, but Castiel knows it gave him the push he needed to find his place, and the confidence to take a chance on his future.

As Dean smiles down at him, then gives him a gentle kiss that becomes something more, Cas’ heart soars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my story!
> 
> Make sure you leave a comment if you liked Usarechan's beautiful images.
> 
> Please feel free to [subscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenOfOz/pseuds/EllenOfOz) to get more stories in your inbox, or you can come flail at me on [Tumblr](http://ellen-of-oz.tumblr.com).


End file.
